What You Never Knew
by Joelle8
Summary: What you never knew about various characters in the Harry Potter series. From their loves, to their tragedies, to even their motives: there is always more to someone than meets the eye. Chapter 30: Helga Hufflepuff.
1. Peter Pettigrew

What You Never Knew

**Peter Pettigrew: A True Gryffindor**

1. Peter Pettigrew strove to be different.

Neither of his parents was in Gryffindor; his father was a Muggle, and his mother was a Hufflepuff. Whenever any of Peter's relatives saw him, they'd say, "He's certainly your son, Robert- look at the boy!" or "He's a shy one, he is- I remember you at his age, Maggie, you were the same way!" He loved his parents more than anything in the world, but he _hated _being compared to them; he wanted to make a name for himself.

2. The Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Ravenclaw.

When Peter sat down on that stool and had that infamous hat plopped rather unceremoniously onto his head, the first thing it said was, "Well, we have a smart one here! Ravenclaw would be good for you!" It had good reason to say this; for while Peter certainly did not excel in his schoolwork, he was always the mastermind behind the elaborate pranks he and his fellow Marauders pulled. In the end, the Sorting Hat agreed that Peter would do well in Gryffindor, stating, "Well, you've certainly got daring and bravery- even if people don't see it. I just hope you'll put your bravery to good use."

3. He never liked Sirius that much.

Sirius always took credit for the pranks; sure, he and James carried them out, but he always bragged about creating the pranks. This irked Peter to no end- for once in his life, he was better at something than everyone else, only to end up unrecognized for it. But what annoyed him more was that James and Remus always knew what Sirius did- and even though they didn't join in, they never did anything to stop it.

4. He fell in love in Fifth Year.

Her name was Alyssa Smithson, and in his opinion, no name was sweeter. She was even shorter than him- a rare feat to accomplish, even for a girl- with shiny blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the room. But she never noticed him- she was too busy pining after Remus. Peter couldn't help resenting his friend for this, even though Remus never returned her affections.

5. Lily Evans was his true best friend.

Nobody could see why the two got along exactly, but they did. Peter was always Lily's favorite of the Marauders, and they could often be seen chatting in the common room, completely at ease. It was during these chats that he convinced Lily that James was a wonderful bloke who truly loved her more than life itself. So, Lily and James get together. And what did Peter get in thanks? He never talked alone with Lily for the rest of the year, because she was always too busy with James. Some may have said that Peter had a crush on Lily, but that was entirely untrue; he just missed his best friend. He always blamed James for that.

6. The first Slytherins he ever met were Severus Snape and Regulus Black.

He accidentally bumped into the two of them in the hallways in Sixth Year on his way to lunch, and, being the unlucky klutz he was, dropped all of his books. To his surprise, Regulus knelt down and picked them up for him. "Thanks," Peter had told him, grabbing the books hastily.

"You're welcome," Regulus had said, his face expressionless.

Just then, Lily had passed by, and had smiled at Peter, and scowled at Severus and Regulus- Severus especially. Peter noticed that Severus gazed after the redhead longingly as she walked away, his face etched with pain.

That was when he had decided that maybe not all Slytherins were that bad after all.

7. He only joined Voldemort at first to protect his father.

Peter knew that Voldemort was going around killing Muggles, and he was very aware that, because of this, his father was in grave danger. So he became a Death Eater, sure that Voldemort wouldn't attack the family of one of his own henchmen- Peter knew that was what he was. He was alright with that, as long as his father survived the upcoming war. Family was everything to Peter.

8. Even though he was a Death Eater, he didn't mean to tell Voldemort where the Potters hid.

The truth was, Voldemort had given him a goblet of wine at a Death Eater meeting, and Peter, never having been especially gifted at Potions, drank it, unable to tell there was Veritaserum mixed in. So, later that evening when Voldemort asked him where the Potters were, Peter had truthfully told him. Deep down, Peter wanted to tell his friends this- but he knew they would never believe him. His Animagus was a rat, after all.

9. The only time he was truly scared was when Sirius confronted him after the Potters died.

It wasn't that Sirius was a significantly better dueler than him; it wasn't that Peter was an awful liar, and knew it, too; it was that true madness shone in Sirius' eyes. Peter had never seen that in his eyes before, and it scared him more than anything else ever could. He knew that crazy people did things that they would never do otherwise; and so, Peter had transformed into a rat. He didn't mean to kill so many people, though- his fear made his wand act on its own accord. He never wanted Sirius to go to Azkaban.

10. He never regretted his death.

Peter regretted many things in life. Dying to save Harry Potter's life was not one of them. Plain and simple as that.

Peter Pettigrew was like Lord Voldemort in that he made all the wrong choices- even if he made them for what he thought were the right reasons. He was, indeed, a true Gryffindor; he was both brave and loyal. He had always been loyal to whoever's side he was on, and no matter what anybody said about him, he was exceedingly brave; for just as it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your friends, it takes even more to betray them.

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_**Please review! Suggestions for which characters you want to have a chapter are welcome! **_

**_-Joelle8_**


	2. Percy Weasley

What You Never Knew

**Percy Weasley: The Green Weasel**

1. Percy always thought his parents loved him least.

Bill was their very first child, not to mention charming, handsome and Head Boy- in other words, practically perfect. Charlie was a brilliant Gryffindor Seeker, and had a knack for dealing with any sort of wildlife, which always came in handy. Fred and George were the joking, always-laughing pranksters that everyone couldn't help but love. Ron was their last son, and no matter how many mistakes he made, he was funny in his own right and could make anyone feel better. Ginny- well, she was Ginny, the only Weasley girl in generations and the beautiful last child. But him? He was just plain old Percy.

2. He always felt sorry for the gnomes.

Believe it or not, he was an exceedingly compassionate person; he just didn't show it. So when he saw his brothers and sister throwing those poor gnomes yards and yards away, landing on their poor little heads, he couldn't help but pity them. This all ended on his tenth birthday, when a gnome bit his toe. It turned out he was allergic to gnome saliva. He was in bed for weeks.

3. For years, his favorite person was Mrs. Lovegood.

He had met the woman merely by chance one day. Returning home from the neighborhood park when he was ten years old- his parents had finally let him go by himself- he had gotten lost and come upon the oddest house. It was black, shaped like a tall cylinder, tilted slightly to the side, and looked a bit like a castle. Being lost, he steeled his nerves and went through the broken gate to knock on the front door. A beaming woman with almost waist-length blond hair and silvery-blue eyes had opened the door.

"Hello there!" She had greeted in a dreamy voice. "What's your name?"

"Percy Weasley," he had answered, pleased that someone had actually asked what his name was and not automatically stated he was a Weasley because of his red hair and freckles. "I'm trying to get home, but I'm lost."

"Oh, well that's not good, is it, Percy Weasley?" The woman had frowned. Suddenly, an idea seemed to strike her, and she smiled, "I know your family; I'll send them an owl, telling them where you are. They can come and get you, and you'll stay here until then. Does that sound alright with you? I'm Nina Lovegood, by the way; but you can call me Nina."

"Thank you, Nina," Percy had grinned thankfully.

By the time his parents had come to get him, he had firmly decided that Nina Lovegood was the nicest woman he had ever met, and frequently visited her and her family- he had even helped with one or two of her experiments. He had gone to tell her about his appointment as a Prefect when he discovered that she was dead; and anyone would tell you that he wasn't the same since.

4. He had never really liked Penelope Clearwater all that much.

Sure, she was nice enough, and not all that bad looking. But she was just… boring. In fact, Percy knew, deep down, that she was too much like him. All his life, he had firmly believed in opposites attracting; and he and Penelope were too alike. Fortunately, in his Sixth Year, they both agreed that breaking up would be the best thing, and stayed friends; Percy pretended that he still fancied her around his family, however, so that they wouldn't tease him about the end of his relationship. They had an annoying habit of doing that.

5. Asking Audrey out was the most nerve-racking thing he ever had to do.

Why? Because Audrey was a Slytherin. He was afraid that if his family found out he was dating a Slytherin, he would be shunned; despite the fact that Audrey was only in Slytherin for being cunning and ambitious, and had no malicious or evil qualities whatsoever. Percy had finally summoned the courage to do it, though, and the two dated in secret during their Seventh Year. In fact, it was with her high-ranking father's help that he got a decent position in the Ministry of Magic in the first place.

6. Out of his whole family, he was always closest to his father.

Throughout Percy's whole life, his father had always been there for him. His mother had often been too busy with the other children; but Mr. Weasley always seemed to have time for his third son. Arthur Weasley was always the most protective of Percy, though, and in his eyes, always seemed to doubt him. So when Arthur had insisted that Percy's promotion was only because he was a Weasley and the Ministry wanted to keep tabs on his family and Albus Dumbledore, he had left, fuming.

7. His worst fear was of death.

Death was the fear of so many people; but for Percy, it was a bit different. While so many wizards and witches saw the people they loved dead when they faced a bogart, Percy saw _himself _dead. He hated himself for being so selfish.

8. His ambitions changed as he grew older.

By the time he worked under Kingsley Shacklebolt, Percy no longer wanted to become Minister of Magic. He saw how much pressure it put on you, and saw how draining it was to have a nation depend on you. He knew that the happiest day of Kingsley's life was probably when he retired, and he didn't want that. He wanted the happiest day of his life to be the day he married Audrey, the births of his two daughters, the eventual weddings of his two daughters; things like that. So, when he was offered the position of Minister, he politely declined.

9. His daughter Lucy's middle name was Abigail.

Neither he nor Audrey had any relatives named Abigail, but Percy felt that it was only appropriate to name one of his children- however so subtly- after Aberforth Dumbledore. Aberforth had told him about the Battle of Hogwarts, had enabled Percy to go there; if it wasn't for Aberforth, he wouldn't have been able to ever reconcile with his family. For that, Percy was forever grateful.

10. He was ecstatic when his daughter Molly was the first Weasley to be Sorted into Slytherin.

In fact, she was the first Weasley to be Sorted into a House besides Gryffindor- and the fact that she was named after the Gryffindor-through-and-through Molly Prewett Weasley made the whole situation hilarious. Percy couldn't have been prouder of his daughter. Being Slytherin meant that she was her own person, and wasn't afraid of being her own person, either- and to him, that was the best type of bravery there was.

Percy was extremely ambitious, and did whatever it took to accomplish his goals without another thought. In fact, out of all of the Weasleys, he took the longest to be Sorted; though it was Gryffindor in the end. Of course. The fact still remains that Percy Weasley was a true Green Weasel; but, in his sister's words, "We love you anyways, Perce."

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_**It seems to me like Percy is the most misunderstood Weasley to ever live- so, of course, I had to write my own version of him and his life story!**_

**_I hope you liked this chapter! Do you agree with my views or Percy? Disagree? Like? Dislike? Tell me in a review- please! And don't forget, suggestions for future characters are welcome! Next generation characters (Rose, Scorpius, etc.) too!_**

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	3. Lily Luna Potter

What You Never Knew

**Lily Luna Potter: The Odd One Out**

1. Her grandmother irritated her.

Sure, Molly Weasley was nothing but kind to her and always spoiled her rotten, but she was just so… _overbearing_. It seemed as if she was always there, being her usual over-protective self. This was alright when Lily was four; but as she grew older and started Hogwarts, she found herself wanting more and more freedom that her grandmother just didn't want to give to her.

2. She hated Quidditch.

Her parents were Ginny Weasley- famed Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies- and Harry Potter- the best Seeker in the history of Hogwarts, or at least people claimed. Everyone expected her to play Quidditch, and to love it, and to be fantastic. But somehow, the Quidditch genes in her family had skipped her. So she had to watch the rest of her family play and have a heckuva lot of fun doing it. _That _was why she hated it- because each time someone spoke to her about Quidditch, it reminded her that she was different.

3. She used to have a crush on Teddy Lupin.

He was her first crush, and for good reason: he was kind, handsome, and always around. This crash lasted from when she was six years old to when she was nine, and James told her (and everyone else, for that matter) about finding Teddy and her cousin Victoire snogging. That was when she decided that she didn't fancy Teddy anymore; she didn't want to hurt Victoire. Besides, he was- as she phrased in later years- 'out of her league'.

4. If she didn't know better, she'd say that the Sorting Hat fancied her.

The first thing the Hat said when Professor Longbottom had gently placed it on her head was, "My, what a pretty little thing!" It went on to jabber on and on about how someday the boys would be all over her, and how they had better treat her well because they were lucky to be with a girl like her, until she had finally interrupted him and asked to be Sorted already. She was a Gryffindor- unsurprisingly.

5. Her favorite Headmaster- ever- was Severus Snape.

She had met him- or, rather, his portrait- in Headmaster Flitwick's office in First Year when she had gotten in trouble for hexing a boy who had just broken her cousin Lucy's heart. He had stared down at her with judgmental, cold black eyes.

"A Weasley, I take it?" He had sneered.

"Half-Weasley," Lily had corrected him. "I'm a Potter."

"I expected your parents would marry," the man had then remarked.

"Did you know them?" Lily had asked curiously, her brown eyes round with curiosity.

"They were both my students," the black-eyed man had answered stiffly.

"Who are you?" Lily had then inquired, being the straight-to-the-point type of eleven-year-old she was.

"Severus Snape. 'Professor Snape' to you."

"Oh! I know you!" Lily had exclaimed, grinning. Severus had cocked an eyebrow, and she had continued, "My parents told me about you! Daddy said you were the bravest man he ever knew- he even named my big brother after you! His name is Albus Severus Potter."

"_Really_?" Professor Snape had asked wondrously, finally displaying some sort of emotion, to Lily's delight.

"Yep!" Lily had nodded eagerly. Snape looked like he was going to respond, but then Professor Flitwick had walked in, and the two had to end their conversation.

Lily Luna didn't know exactly why, but she quite enjoyed Professor Snape's dry, sarcastic company, and frequently borrowed James' Invisibility Cloak to visit him. She knew he liked her, too; even if he kept telling her to go away.

6. She was even better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than her father.

When only a Second Year, she had been reading one of her cousin's, Rose Weasley's, books, and had come upon the Patronus Charm. Wanting to see what animal she related most to, she followed the directions and conjured a silver cougar on the first try. Only in Seventh Year, when Professor Merrythought introduced the Patronus Charm as "an extremely advanced spell which only very accomplished witches and wizards can do". Lily had a smirk worthy of Rose's boyfriend, Scorpius Malfoy, for the rest of the day.

7. She had a rather unusual obsession with Muggle books.

Ever since her Aunt Hermione had bought her Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen for her tenth birthday, each time any sort of gift-giving holiday came around, she would beg her relatives, "Please get me Muggle books!" None of them understood it; why were The Grimm Tales so much better than The Tales of Beedle the Bard? In Lily's mind, it was quite simple, really: she had grown up hearing stories about Babbitty Rabbitty and Grumble the Grubby Goat. Muggle stories took her to a whole new world, one that never ceased to amaze her. Nobody was really all that surprised when she chose Muggle Studies as her elective.

8. She never had much luck with relationships.

Jeremy Finnegan: dumped her. Johnny Thomas: a flat-out arse. Maxwell Corner: cheated on her. Alexander Smith: she only agreed to go out with him out of pity. She broke up with him the day after. Lily had various other relationships, but most of them ended one of three ways: he dumped her, she dumped him, or he cheated on her. Lily was proud to say that she was always loyal to her partners, thank you very much- no matter what the Slytherin gossipers liked to say.

9. Ron was her favorite uncle.

Charlie was cool, with his dragons and constant cheery demeanor; Bill was kind and understanding, and always there for a chat; Percy was the serious one, who would do anything for the people he loved; George was hilarious and had the best stories. But she liked her Uncle Ron best, from the moment she saw his reaction about Rose dating Scorpius Malfoy- because that one reaction gave Lily Luna enough laughs to last her a good three months.

10. She was thirty years old when she realized why her Patronus was a cougar.

Luna Lovegood had been a family friend for as long as she could remember. Lily had attended her wedding to Rolf Scamander; had been waiting in the hall of St. Mungo's as Luna gave birth to her twin sons, Lorcan and Lysander; had babysat the twins during her summers while she was home from Hogwarts. All that time, she had never expected to fall for Lysander Scamander- ten years her junior- at a family gathering. But she did, and they were married a year later.

From her lack of Quidditch skills, to her fascination with Muggle books, to her opinion on her grandmother (though she never voiced it- she didn't dare), to her marriage to a man ten years younger than her, Lily Luna Potter was different from the rest of her family. To Lily, she was always the odd one out.

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_**I just realized, I forgot this:**_

**_Disclaimer: If you think I own Harry Potter, you need to see a doctor._**

**_Anyways, I personally am a big fan of this chapter! What about you? Please let me know in a review! Oh, and by the way, to all you Molly Weasley Fans out there, PLEASE DO NOT HURT ME! I love Molly too, I swear I do, but I think that she could definitely be a bit annoyingly over-protective to her grandchildren._**

**_Oh, and if anyone is wondering about when I'll update, it won't really be on a schedule or anything. Probably I'll jsut update whenever I have the time- which should be at least once a week most of the time._**

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	4. Ted Tonks

What You Never Knew

**Ted Tonks: The Wooing Wonder**

He always knew something was different about him.

He just never suspected it was magic. There was only one incident that set him apart from the rest of his Muggle school friends, and that was the day a rather evil substitute teacher had assigned at least seven hours worth of homework. She had promptly turned into a monkey- right after Ted had protested.

His parents were afraid of him.

Most parents of Muggleborn wizards and/or witches tended to be thrilled. Arnold and Emily Tonks happened to be two of the few exceptions. When Professor McGonagall had come to the Tonks' home to explain about the Wizarding World, there had been a massive fight that nearly blew Ted's eardrums out. Finally, he had magically put duct tape over all three adults' mouths- accidentally, of course. McGonagall had removed hers first, explained about Hogwarts and Ted being a wizard, and promptly left.

The hardest day of Ted's life was going to Diagon Alley.

His parents had specifically told him, "Theodore Tonks, if you attempt to enter that blasted Wizarding World, you will never be welcomed back in this house." He had known his parents were strictly Catholic; he hadn't known they were so religious as to be against witches and wizards, including their own child. Thankfully, his aunt had been visiting around that time, and when she had left, she had taken Ted with her. When they had gone to Diagon Alley, that was the moment Ted knew there was no turning back.

He was in Hufflepuff because he _deserved _to be in Hufflepuff.

It wasn't that he didn't fit into any other house. It was that he was truly hard-working and loyal, with everything he put effort into. Earlier on, it was his schoolwork, Quidditch, making friends. But as his interests changed, so did what he put effort into. By the time Ted Tonks was in Fifth Year, he was the biggest player Hogwarts had ever seen.

He first talked to Andromeda Black in Fifth Year.

Everyone knew that the middle Black sister was exceptionally skilled at Transfiguration, and Professor McGonagall had informed Ted that if he didn't improve soon, he wouldn't be able to take Transfiguration as an N.E.W.T. subject- and as Ted aimed to become a Healer, this news was devastating to him. So he had had to take desperate measures.

"Er… hello," he had said, much more awkwardly than usual. Andromeda Black, though shorter than most girls in her Year, had an intimidating aura to her.

She had looked up, surveyed him for a moment, before calmly replying, "Make it quick, Tonks, I'm busy."

Though this response was cold and harsh, Ted couldn't help but note that, unlike what both of her sisters would have done, she had not called him a Mudblood. Armed with this bit of hope, he pressed on, "D'you think you could tutor me in Transfiguration?"

Andromeda had looked up straight into his green eyes and stated, "No, I'm busy."

Ted suppressed a sigh, realizing that to get her to tutor him, he would have to go to drastic measures: flirting. "Are you _sure_?" He asked, sliding into the chair next to her at the library table and winking at her. She merely raised an eyebrow and continued scribbling her Charms essay. "Maybe we could involve some… _benefits _into our sessions," Ted went on, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. In truth, this idea didn't seem all that bad to him; it was well known that Andromeda was one of the most beautiful girls in school, with luscious waves of chocolaty brown hair flowing to her waist, sparkling light brown eyes surrounded by eyelashes with no need for mascara whatsoever, flawless pale skin, and full pink lips.

To his surprise, Andromeda turned to face him, her eyes seeming to bore holes through his dirty blond hair and straight into his mind. "My, my, you are most certainly desperate, I'll give you that," she had said, the slightest hint of a smile quirking at one corner of her mouth.

For a fleeting moment, Ted had thought that his charms had worked (as they had with every other girl he had used them on) and that he would be receiving tutoring sessions, but then Andromeda stood up and told him, "I can't tutor you, though. Try Macy, in Ravenclaw- I'm sure she'd be more than happy to tutor you, _and _have benefits." With that, she had stridden away confidently, her hips swinging.

Ted had stayed sitting for only a few minutes later before a smile crept onto his face. He couldn't be sure of it, but he thought he might have just met his match.

It was Andromeda's fault that he became known as such a womanizer.

The words "Ted" and "womanizer" were all too often heard in the same sentence, but nobody knew the real truth. For one thing, Ted was a virgin- he hadn't "made any girl a woman," so to speak. Also, everyone assumed Ted just did what he did with girls for the fun of it- this, also, was untrue. Actually, ever since his first encounter with the guarded Andromeda Black, he had been trying to impress her- and for whatever reason, his hormonal teenage mind thought that the way to do this would be to date almost every girl in his Year and the Years directly below and above. He didn't realize that his goal all along was to make Andromeda jealous until she had caught him snogging a girl in a deserted corridor and her fists had clenched at her sides.

He saw his parents once- just once- after he left with his aunt.

It was purely coincidental- his aunt was sick in bed, and Ted had driven to the neighborhood supermarket to buy the ingredients to make her chicken soup. He had just been thinking about how his friends would laugh at him if they saw him doing this- "acting like a House Elf," they'd say- when an all-too-familiar maternal voice had rounded the corner, pushing a grocery cart. Both Ted and his mother had stopped in their tracks when they had seen each other. Ted glanced down, and saw a boy who couldn't be older than four sitting in the cart, looking like a miniature version of himself. He swallowed back the tears the threatened to swell up, reminding himself that 16-year-olds _did not _cry. Nodding curtly at his mother and younger brother, he had quickly paid for his groceries and gone home. He never told his aunt what had happened.

Becoming Head Boy was the biggest surprise of his life.

It was completely unprecedented- sure, he was reasonably intelligent, an alright bloke, and good at getting people to listen to him, but he hadn't even be a Prefect! Plus, he had had more detentions than he could count- usually for snogging in the corridors after hours. Then, he discovered that the Head Girl was none other than Andromeda Black. And that he would be required to spend hours on end with her discussing their Head duties. Suddenly, Ted had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore was trying to play matchmaker.

He very nearly never got Andromeda to go out with him.

Ted and Andromeda got together on their last day of Hogwarts, after their graduations ceremony. The two had been on good terms for months- civil outwardly, close but secret friends in reality. While Andromeda's family was chatting with the Malfoys over matters Ted was sure he'd rather not get involved in, he had gone to find the brunette, only to find her crying behind a tree.

"What's wrong, Dromeda?" He had asked concernedly, using his affectionate nickname for her.

Andromeda sniffed. "I- I don't want to leave. Hogwarts is m-more of a home than my house had ever been! My family… they want me to support the Dark Lord, and hate M-Muggleborns, and be the pureblood wife everyone expects me to be. But I don't _want _to be who everyone expects me to be!"

Ted had sunk down next to her and casually put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "What do you want, then?" He had murmured quietly, his voice soothing, squeezing her close to him.

She had turned to him, stared deeply into his eyes and then, all of the sudden, leant forward and kissed him.

The two were married a year later, and Andromeda was all too happy to leave her horrid family behind.

The Snatchers didn't just kill him because he was a Muggleborn.

One of the Snatchers who had finally captured Ted had been Rabastan Lestrange. He had been in an arranged engagement with Andromeda before she and Ted had eloped and, apparently, held a grudge towards the Muggleborn for that reason for over two decades. Their conversation was short when they spoke for the first time in their lives.

"How's Black, Mudblood?" Rabastan had leered.

"She's fine, thanks, as far as I can tell," Ted had responded coolly. "Oh, and by the way, she's not _Black _anymore- she's _Tonks_."

Rabastan had scowled, cried out, "Avada Kadabra!" and then Ted had known no more.

Ted Tonks had always been a player. But Andromeda Black was truly the off-limits girl of her era: gorgeous and intelligent, from one of the richest, oldest pureblood families there was, guarded and haughty to an extent. Marrying Ted took her away from her family; the beliefs she had grown up with; everything she knew, she had willingly left behind- all for Ted. For him to have accomplished that- no matter how long it took- made him a true Wooing Wonder.

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_**Thanks to Pixiebookworm for suggesting Ted!**_

**_Hope you liked this chapter, and my interpretation of Ted! The way I see it, he had to have been really good at wooing for Andromeda to fall so hard for him that she left behind everything she knew. And you know what they say- "Practice makes perfect"! I sort of see Ted as the Sirius Black and/or James Potter of his day._**

**_Please review! Suggestions still welcome!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	5. Pansy Parkinson

What You Never Knew

**Pansy Parkinson: The Girl Who Loved**

1. She was a mistake.

And she knew it, too. Her parents never ceased to remind her. "Faulty birth control spell," they'd always say. "Must've been created by those filthy Mudbloods." That was why Pansy hated Muggleborns so much: no matter whatever her parents said to her, she loved them, and believed anything they said. And so she grew up believing that if it wasn't for the stupid Mudbloods who created a bad spell, she wouldn't be there, and her parents would be happier. She would've been perfectly fine with not being alive if her parents were happy for once.

2. Her role model was her older sister, Alexandria.

Alexandria had been the one person to always be nice to her- even though Pansy was ten years younger than her. She had always been willing to brush her younger sister's long, black hair, have midnight chats, give makeovers, offer advice; whenever Pansy needed anything, Alexandria would always be the first one she would call, and would always be there to answer. Then, when Pansy was ten, Alexandria ran away to be with a Muggle- out of the blue. She didn't even say goodbye to Pansy. From that moment on, Pansy always hated her older sister- or at least, that was what she told herself.

3. The Patil girls used to be her best friends.

Their mothers had been good friends in school, and had kept in touch afterwards, so Pansy, Parvati and Padma had known each other since they were babies. They had always been a trio- "The P Girls", they'd call themselves, since all of their first names began with 'P'. Then, they had gone to Hogwarts, where they had been Sorted into three separate Houses. Pansy had wanted to fit in with her fellow Slytherins so badly that she had mistakenly teased Parvati after she had stuck up for Neville Longbottom- and when you tease one Patil, you tease both. Their friendship had been irreparable after that.

4. Ravenclaw was Pansy's House of choice.

Unbeknownst to many, Pansy's mother had been a Ravenclaw- as had her mother, and her mother, and so forth. Pansy had always wanted to carry on that tradition and be Sorted into Ravenclaw herself- it was the one thing that her mother encouraged and supported her about. Unfortunately, the Sorting Hat had, quite obviously, had other ideas.

_…What is this blasted hat doing on my head? _Pansy thought as the ratty hat covered her eyes. Having one of the shortest attention spans known to mankind, she had somehow not noticed that this hat would place her in a Hogwarts House.

**I'd prefer **_**not **_**to be called 'this blasted hat', Pansy Parkinson**, the Sorting Hat had calmly replied. Pansy had jumped in her seat. **I'm the Sorting Hat, after all- my job is to place you into your Hogwarts House. Slytherin, Ravencl-**

_There. Put me there._

If the Sorting Hat had eyebrows to raise, it would've. **Ravenclaw, eh? Are you sure you want to be put with all the bookish folk? Personally, I think you'd be a much better fit in Slytherin, you have so much against Muggles.**

_Of course I do! They're the reason my life is so bloody miserable!_

**Language, Miss. Hmm, now that I look at it, you do have a lot to blame Muggles for- in your eyes, at least. You know, I'm sure all the other Slytherins would agree on your opinions about Muggles…**

_…They would?_

**Ah, you want to fit in, do you? Well, if **_**that's **_**the case, I hate to crush your childhood dream, but Slytherin is the best place for you. Muggle-haters like yourself; pureblood galore; you have enough cunning for it, mind you.**

_If I have so much cunning, why can't I go into Ravenclaw?_

**Cunning is very different from the wisdom and book smarts of Ravenclaw.**

_Are you saying I'm not smart?!_

**On the contrary, Miss Parkinson- I think you are very intelligent. In fact, I **_**know **_**you are very intelligent. But the fact of the matter is, there are different kinds of intelligence.**

**…**_You _really _think Slytherin would be the best place for me?_

**I **_**know **_**it would be the best place for you.**

_Well, alright then. At least Father may be happy with me for once._

**That's the way to stay optimistic! **"SLYTHERIN!"

5. Her favorite teacher was Professor Aurora Sinistra.

Not many people got to know the strict Astronomy teacher- Pansy hadn't even meant to, in fact. She had been wandering the corridors after hours, just thinking, and had found herself at the Astronomy Tower, where Professor Sinistra was gazing at the sky.

The Professor had turned around and admonished, "You know, you really should be in bed right now, Miss Parkinson."

"I- I'm not in bed? Oh, deary me, I must've been sleepwalking!" Pansy had giggled nervously, not particularly eager to receive detention. "I'll just be going back then-"

"You really are a terrible liar, Pansy," Sinistra had laughed. Then, surprisingly, she had gestured to Pansy to then walk over to her. Pansy, being the relatively obedient First Year she was at the time, had done so. "Look at the stars."

"What?" Pansy had asked, confused, staring at the professor.

"You heard me. Look at the stars. It helps clear your mind," the Astronomy teacher advised.

Pansy looked at the stars, and found, to her slight shock, that after a while, she felt much more at peace. "The stars are beautiful," she had sighed.

"Yes, they are," Sinistra had agreed. "Now, go back to your dormitory, before I have to give you detention."

The two had shared a slight smile, and then Pansy had departed. She came back to visit quite often, though- Professor Sinistra was always there, as if expecting her.

6. She knew Draco didn't really fancy her.

More likely, he just wanted a girlfriend for the sake of saying he had one- and Pansy had been there, more than willing to oblige. So they had gone out for years- though really, it was more snogging every once in a while, going to dances when they happened- and, in Seventh Year, Pansy was proud to say that _she _dumped _him_. People may not believe her- since she had always seemed to adore Draco with every fiber of her being- but it was true. She had seen the way he looked at Astoria Greengrass, and she would not allow herself to be humiliated by having a cheating boyfriend. Besides, she loved him- she just wanted him to be happy.

7. Theodore Nott always intrigued her.

He was a pureblood Slytherin, yes; his father was a Death Eater, yes; and yet, he never seemed to be all that against Mudbloods. Really, he showed no emotion towards them at all- no emotion towards anyone, actually. He had always been a loner, often called a "Lone Wolf" by his fellow Slytherins. Pansy had always wondered why this was. Then she had found out about his mother's untimely death from an incurable Muggle disease, and his being forced to see her die in bed, and suddenly, she knew why he had never been particularly eager to talk to people. Grief lasted longer for some than others, she decided. So she became friends with Theodore, during her Seventh Year. The moment he smiled at her- the first emotion she saw him display- she fell for him.

8. She hadn't really wanted to give up Harry Potter to Lord Voldemort.

Sure, she had never liked him- not one bit, in fact. But she had some sense, and knew that despite her fierce hatred towards him, he didn't deserve being handed over to his certain death. The only reason she even suggested it was for Theodore- if it wasn't for Potter, bloody Potter and his friends, poor Theodore wouldn't be living by himself because his father, his last living family member, was in Azkaban. The way she saw it, Theodore- her boyfriend by then- was too quiet to say it himself, so she had to say it for him. She couldn't have cared less that the rest of her Hogwarts classmates hated her from that point on.

9. There was one Weasley she didn't hate.

Though she had never been able to stand him or his blood-traitor siblings in Hogwarts, Pansy found that she couldn't hate George Weasley. She never spoke to him- she just saw him once in Diagon Alley through his shop window. It was all too obvious that he hadn't smiled in months- wrinkles surrounded his frowning mouth, his eyes were red from tears, his skin was even paler than usual. Not to mention he was missing an ear.

Of course, Pansy knew this was the result of his twin, Fred, his other half, dying. She could sympathize with George- both of them had siblings, best friends, who had left them. So when she had seen Angelina Johnson tentatively eyeing George through the doorway, she had wasted no time in pushing her in, knowing the two had been friends in Hogwarts. When she had seen their marriage announcement in the Daily Prophet, she had just smirked to herself.

10. She saw Alexandria once- just once- after she had left.

It had been a regular day when Pansy had taken her daughter, Sarah- after Theodore's mother- to the nearest park, despite it being a Muggle park. Sarah, being the curious four-year-old she was, had caught sight of a butterfly after about twenty minutes there, and had chased it- out of her mother's sight and earshot. When Pansy had realized this, she had begun searching frantically for her precious child, not caring that her screams probably made her sound like a madwoman. Then, she had seen the most extraordinary thing: her darling Sarah, licking an ice cream cone, being led over to her by a tall black-haired woman.

"Sarah!" Pansy had cried, kneeling down to her daughter's height and flinging her arms around her. "Don't you ever scare Mummy like that again!"

"I won't, Mummy," Sarah promised absentmindedly- it was good enough for her mother, who was just relieved to have her back.

Remembering her manners, Pansy had decided that she ought to thank this wonderful woman for returning her daughter to her- and, apparently, buying her ice cream. Standing up and brushing off her skirt, she had begun, "Thank you so mu-" when she had looked into the far- too- familiar face.

The woman was an older, more lined version of Alexandria.

"You're welcome," the woman had smiled kindly. "She's a sweet little girl."

Pansy regained her Slytherin poise and nodded. "She is, thank you. May I ask what your name is?"

"Alex Trent," the woman told her. Sticking out her hand politely, she said, "And you are…?"

"Pansy Nott," the former Slytherin had grasped the woman's hand. The barest flicker of recognition and shock passed through her eyes before disappeared quickly; it was enough to confirm Pansy's suspicions, though.

"Well," Alex said, dropping her hand, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Pansy, but I must be going."

"It was nice to see you again- _Alexandria_."

Alexandria Trent gave her sister a small wink and a wave before walking away.

Pansy Parkinson loved many people. She loved her parents. She loved her older sister. She loved Draco- then, once that feeling was gone, Theodore. She loved Sarah, and all the children that came afterwards. In fact, Pansy loved most people- even if they didn't return her feelings, and she knew that most of them didn't. But she couldn't help it. Because she was nothing more or less than The Girl Who Loved.

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_**Thanks to Pixiebookworm- again- for the suggestion to do Pansy Parkinson!**_

**_And I have to ask, why did I only get ONE review- thank you, L.A.H.H.- last chapter?! This time, though I hate to say it, I'm not updating unless I get at least 3 reviews! So PLEASE review!_**

**_Anyways, hope you liked this chapter! Suggestions for future characters appreciated!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	6. Luna Lovegood

What You Never Knew

**Luna Lovegood: The Perpetually Right Believer**

1. She was once normal.

Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood were often considered to be absolutely crazy, due to their odd obsessions with nonexistent magical creatures. Everyone assumed that Luna harbored these strange beliefs because her father did; they were terribly mistaken, though. In fact, Xeno believed in the creatures for his precious daughter's sake. And why did Luna believe in them? It all happened when she was five years old, in the nearby Muggle playground. She had been playing in the sandbox when a Muggle girl had approached her.

"You're going to play with me," the Muggle girl stated forcefully, plopping down in the sand. "Make me a sand castle."

Luna frowned. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather play by myself." She was proud of her rather large vocabulary- for a five-year-old, that is.

The girl glared at her. "Well, too bad. Now make me a sand castle, or I'll throw sand in your face!"

"But I don't _want _to make a sa-" Luna was cut off by sand landing in her mouth and eyes. She immediately began spitting it out, wiping it off her face. Looking at the girl, she noticed that she was smiling smugly.

"Make me a sand castle."

Now, Luna rarely got angry, but she was bloody furious at the Muggle girl. "NO!" she shouted, eyes narrowed.

The Muggle girl glared back at her, picked up a handful of sand, and threw it at Luna. However, as Luna glared at the sand, it stopped in midair, turned around, and hit the astounded Muggle girl full force in the eyes. She let out a loud wail.

"ALEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEX!" She cried, and a frighteningly large ten-year-old boy swaggered over.

"_What_, Lola?" The boy- Alex asked, sounding like he really couldn't care less.

"She threw sand at me!" Lola pointed at Luna accusingly. Alex sighed and picked up Luna by her shirt collar with ease, lifting her to his height. Before Luna could cry out in protest, the Muggle boy slapped her, so hard that she felt her head spinning, and then dropped her back into the sandbox.

"Don't mess with my little sister, you hear?" Alex warned, and Luna nodded, not wanting to get hit again. Then the Muggle children had walked away, Lola smirking triumphantly.

That hit to the head changed Luna. Not only did it teach her not to get angry no matter what happened, but from that point on, Luna was different. While she was still logical, she came up with the strangest ideas: creatures called Nargles, who lived in mistletoe, that she could see clear as day. When she put on Muggle 3-D glasses, she could see tiny things called Wrackspurts flying around peoples' heads. Her father, beign the supportive man he was, saw this as creativity, and went along with it.

He never knew what the Muggle boy had done.

2. For a while, she hated magic.

From the age of 9 ½ to when she had entered Hogwarts, Luna hated magic. It had killed her mother, her sweet, loving, perfect mother; it had driven her father even crazier than before; it had created a hole in her heart. Then at Hogwarts, she had discovered all the miraculous, beautiful things magic could do- from creating little canaries to levitating a feather. And then, she had known that magic wasn't bad. Just that it needed to be controlled very, very carefully.

3. The Sorting Hat had wanted to put her in Gryffindor.

The first thing it had said when it had been plopped onto Luna's head, covering her eyes, was that she was extraordinarily brave. Luna had thanked him, and then apologized for any Wrackspurts that may have been flying around her head. When the Hat had asked what Wrackspurts were, Luna had explained what they were- and gone on to tell him about Nargles, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and more. Sensing the underlying logic and creativity of Luna's mind, the Sorting Hat had called out, "RAVENCLAW!" during her mental rant- just so he wouldn't be forced to listen to anymore of her crazy thoughts.

4. She did have a friend in Ravenclaw once.

Her name was Amelia Greene, and she was a Seventh Year while Luna was a First Year. She had stood up for Luna whenever people had teased her, and was always willing to talk about Nargles and such- their friendship was so perfect to Luna that sometimes she wondered if Amelia only hung out with her out of pity. But Amelia graduated, and the two lost touch. However, when Amelia was killed by Death Eaters in the summer after Luna's Fifth Year, Luna found an invitation addressed to her in the mail, asking her to please attend the funeral. Then, she had known that she meant something to Amelia.

5. Albus Dumbledore always seemed to like her.

More than a few times, he invited her for tea in his office- just to chat. He always seemed to understand why she was so nuts, even though she never told him- or anyone else, for that matter- about the Muggle boy. Legilimency was certainly an option, and yet, Luna couldn't imagine her Headmaster invading her privacy like that. No, she suspected that he could just… tell. She had a gut feeling that he had known someone who a similar thing had happened to- and when she had asked him about this, he had told her the truth about his sister, Ariana. Luna had offered sympathy and kind words of comfort, and had returned for tea every week after that. When he had died, she was the first to cry.

6. She had a crush on Neville Longbottom during her Sixth Year.

He was the school hero, the leader of the movement against the Carrows and Snape, and always the person to offer a shoulder to cry on to anyone who had been subject to one of the Carrows' barbaric detentions. In addition to all of that, he was actually _nice _to Luna, unlike so many other people she knew- and in some cases, _didn't _know. But it was clear that he fancied Hannah Abbott, and so Luna gave up on him. Being the strong person she was, it was surprisingly easy.

7. The happiest day of her life was when Ginny married Harry.

She had known all along that they were made for each other, and that Ginny, her best friend, had pined for him for years. So when they had gotten married, and Luna had given a toast to the couple, the first thing she had said was, "Finally!" Then Ginny had laughed, and her utter joy had radiated from her. Luna was happy because her friends were happy.

8. Quite a few people didn't approve of her relationship with Rolf.

He was her boss, and quite a bit older than her; she was a young, newcomer naturalist. It was only natural that people should frown upon her- but they had all her life, and so she had grown accustomed to it. She had helped Rolf to ignore it, too- it had been easy for him, he always said, because he loved her so much. Eventually, everyone had gotten over it- they had finally realized how perfect Luna and Rolf were for each other, with Luna's carefree nature and Rolf's constant sensible attitude. It took Xenophilius a little longer than the rest, though- but that was just because he didn't want to give up his baby girl.

9. She had laughed when Lysander and Lily Luna Potter had gotten married.

Lysander had had the biggest crush on Lily when he was younger. For over a year, it was always, "Lily this," or "Lily that". He all but worshipped the ground she walked on, in fact. Luna was proud to say that she encouraged this- Lily was a delightful girl, after all, and one of the few she considered good enough for her son. Unlike Rolf, she didn't think it was all that implausible for Lily to someday return Lysander's affections- age was but a number, after all.

10. When she died, her funeral became one of the most attended in the history of the Wizarding World.

During her lifetime, she helped defeat Lord Voldemort, was key in the efforts to rebuild Hogwarts, discovered the existence of over 200 magical creatures, founded the Nina Lovegood Wing in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and, most of all, offered a helping hand to anyone who needed it. She was the most loved witch of her generation, without a doubt. And when her 150-year-long life ended, she was mourned for constant years afterwards.

Luna Lovegood was kind, loving, more than a bit weird, and followed her own path. But more than anything, she was a believer. She believed in the existence of unheard of magical creatures, she believed that Harry would defeat Lord Voldemort, she believed that Ginny would win over Harry one day, and more than anything, she believed that every person was good, deep down, and could do anything if they really wanted to. And with everything she believed, she was right.

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_**I'm not sure I did Luna justice, seeing as she is AWESOME. Thanks for all the reviews last chapter- keep it up, please! Again, I won't update again until I get 3 reviews! Suggestions still welcome! **_

**_-Joelle8_**


	7. Dominique Weasley

What You Never Knew

**Dominique Weasley: The Reluctant Shadow**

1. She hated the 2nd of May.

Many people hated that day because it was the day of the Final Battle at Hogwarts, when Lord Voldemort- along with so many other, wonderful people- had been killed. Dominique, too, hated this- but that was only part of the reason she hated May 2nd. It was also her older sister, Victoire's, birthday. Every year on that day, the whole family would focus on Victoire- it was always "Victoire this" and "Victoire that" wherever she went. She couldn't help but muse about how wrong this was- shouldn't they be mourning the dead, instead of acting like it had never happened? Like they hadn't lost her Uncle Fred, bless his soul? She couldn't help thinking how bad this was of them.

2. Her first words were "No way".

Most babies' first words were "Dada" or "Mama" or easy words like that; Victoire's first word had been the latter, and Louis' the former. But Dominique? No, her first words were spoken when her mother tried to feed her the bloody awful mashed peas yet again. Then they were spoken again, and again, and again; consistently throughout her lifetime, in fact. George would always tell her, "You could be my daughter, Dom, I swear it. You're gonna be a first-class prankster- owl me if you need any help." This always made Dominique glow with pride at the words from her favorite uncle.

3. She hated the French language.

It was always so, so complicated. The way you had to get the accent just right; the accents on the vowels that were oh-so-easy to forget; the gender of each word. For whatever reason, even though the rest of her family- including her father- could speak the supposed "Language of Love", she had never been able to. But Victoire spoke it flawlessly and with blatant ease. Everyone- on both sides of the family- praised her for it, begged her to speak in French. Nobody noticed Dominique sourly sitting in the corner, waiting for it all to be over.

4. She hated how she looked.

Ever since she had noticed the ways boys looked at her older sister, with her big blue eyes, silvery-blond hair, willowy figure, and all-too-clear Veela heritage, Dominique had despised how she looked. Frizzy red hair; freckles coating every inch of her body; dull brown eyes; longer-than-average arms and legs. She was the epitome of a Weasley. She wanted to stand out; but it was always Victoire that people would notice in a crowd. Dominique was just another Weasley to them.

5. She had the shortest Sorting since Draco Malfoy was Sorted into Slytherin.

She had sat down on the stool, seen the shadow of the Hat's brim being held over her head by Professor Longbottom, and before he could even set the Hat down, it had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" for the whole hall to hear. The Great Hall had stared at her with wonder- not shock, she was a Weasley, after all- for a moment before exploding with the appropriate applause. It was the proudest moment of Dominique's young life.

6. During her Hogwarts years, the biggest pain in her side was Victoire.

Yes, she was her sister- but that was just it. She was her bloody perfect older sister. Perfect looks; perfect grades; perfect behavior; perfect demeanor; perfect boyfriend, even! Victoire Weasley was perfect _everything_. During Dominique's First Year, Victoire would pop up from out of nowhere whenever Dominique was in even a remotely uncomfortable situation to sort it out and stop it from happening again. Dom hated this. She knew her sister meant well, as always, being the perfect person she was. But she also knew that she could take care of herself, and resented her sister for thinking otherwise. It didn't help matters that half the time she was teased, it was because she supposedly "depended on her sister to take care of her".

7. Professor Flitwick hated her.

From the beginning, when Dom had failed to perform a charm correctly on the first try, the tiny teacher had inexplicably had something against her. So, of course, Dominique retaliated by making him the victim of a large portion of the thousands of pranks she pulled over her years at Hogwarts. She wouldn't have understood why her not being a natural at Charms was such a big deal if Victoire hadn't been the most skilled Charms student at Hogwarts since their Aunt Hermione. But, as that was the case, she knew why the other teachers- even the strict Headmaster McGonagall- liked her, despite her rather awful behavior.

8. There was one person who agreed with Dominique about Victoire.

His name was Nathaniel Jackson, and he was a year older than Dominique. She had met him at a party in the Ravenclaw Common Room, which she had been invited to by her younger brother, Louis- at the time, he was a Third Year, and she was a Fifth Year. Dom had accidentally bumped into Nathaniel while walking to the punch table.

"Oh, sorry!" she exclaimed immediately, looking up into electric blue eyes. Surveying the rest of this boy's figure, she saw that he had shaggy brown hair, a wide grin, and was seriously fit. She approved.

"No harm done," the handsome boy had shrugged nonchalantly, sticking out his hand. "Nathaniel Jackson- but you can call me Nate. And you are…?"

"Dominique Weasley- call me Dom, though," she had smiled, shaking his hand firmly. She saw the usual flash of recognition in his eyes, and prepared herself for being asked, "Aren't you Victoire's sister?"

"Aren't you the girl who transformed all of the staff's food into live chickens last week during lunch?" He asked, his eyes sparkling. Dom fought to keep her jaw from dropping at being recognized for _herself_, for once.

"The one and only," she beamed up at him. "So, what Year are you in?"

"Sixth."

"Oh, I'm in Fifth. I'm guessing you know my sister, Victoire, in Seventh?"

To Dom's surprise- again- Nate's nose scrunched up in mild disgust. "Yeah, I know her. No offense, but I don't think much of her. I mean, she seems nice and all, but she's just… too nice. It's bloody annoying."

Dom blinked a few times before her face broke out into a huge grin. "Nate, I think we're going to get on smashingly."

And they did.

9. James was her favorite person in the world.

He was a little prankster himself- and Dominique took it upon herself to mentor him. The two became the most successful pranking duo since their uncles Fred and George, despite their large age gap, and were as close as could be. They could have been siblings- Dominique knew that Louis, darling little brother he was, was too much like Victoire for her to treasure him the way she did James, no matter how hard she tried. Victoire was the one person who criticized her for this, chiding that, "Louis feels neglected; you should hang out with him more, Dom. He _is_ your brother, after all." Every time Dom was told this, she bit her lip to stop herself from screaming back at her sister to shut up.

10. There was only one thing she really regretted in life.

It had been a perfectly normal day- Dominique had finally gotten her son to fall asleep when she heard a knock on the door. Sighing, she had gone to open it, and had been faced with none other than her beaming sister.

"Hello, Vic, what brings you here?"

"Oh, just thought I'd drop by!" Victoire had smiled, walking through the open doorway. Dominique noticed, as she did this, that she had a rather large bag over her shoulder.

"What's in the bag?" she had asked, eyeing it curiously.

"I'm glad you asked, Dom! You know how you told me how you were having trouble getting little Robbie to go to sleep? Well, I found a bunch of stuff that might help!"

Dominique sighed. "Thanks, Vic, but really, you didn't need to do anything-"

"Nonsense, I _wanted _to! Besides, you shouldn't be ashamed of asking for help, Dom. After all, I have experience with these things- how do you think I get my little Dora to go to sleep every night? It takes practice, but you'll get it eventually!"

Dom gritted her teeth. "Really, it's _fine_. I've gotten Rob to sleep perfectly fine the last few nights, I really don't need any help-"

"I don't mind helping, I really don't. It's simple, see, a trick that always works is a warm milk bottle-"

"Victoire, for _once _in your life, will you please _shut up_!" Dominique shouted at her sister, her weariness combining with her annoyance to push her over the edge. Victoire was perfectly still, shell-shocked, and Dominique ranted on, "All my life, you've always thought you knew best, and I've _always _been expected to be _just like you_! Well, guess what?! I'm not, and I don't have any interesting in being like you, either!"

"Dom, I-"

"I have my own life, as _Dominique Jackson_, not 'Victoire Weasley's little sister'! _Finally, _I'm considered my own person, and I don't have to hear people go on and on and _on _about how _wonderful _you are and how _I should be more like you _and all that bull! And then, you have the _nerve_ to come waltzing into _my house_, telling me how to take care of my own child?!"

"I didn't mea-"

"You've been doing it all my life, Victoire, don't you _dare _try to tell me you haven't noticed by now! Don't try to tell me you haven't noticed how I'm always at least one step behind you, never as good as the perfect Victoire Weasley!"

"It's Victoire _Lupin _now, Dom, and-"

"Don't call me 'Dom'!" Dominique snapped before she could stop herself. "Only people I care about can call me that!"

Victoire had stared at her, dumbstruck and hurt, for a moment before exiting the house and slamming the door behind her.

Dominique had finally digested everything she had said, and three hours later, Nathaniel came home to find his wife in the same sport, crying her eyes out.

No matter how much Dominique wanted to stand out, she was always just a shadow when compared to Victoire. A reluctant shadow. And in the end, it was being a shadow- and all the grudge that came along with it- that severed her relationship with her family. Until, that is, she received an invitation to her father's funeral, decades later. She and her family went, and when she had seen Victoire crying with Teddy's arm around her shoulder, something told her that it wasn't just because of their father dying. She never forgave herself for making her sister cry. But from that point on, she knew that not everyone saw her as a shadow- shadows couldn't cause tears. For that, she couldn't help loving her sister- even if she never saw her again.

* * *

_**I don't think this is my best work- I'm not a big fan of angst, myself, no matter how minor. Thanks for Pixiebookworm for the suggestion. Please review- won't update again until I have 3!**_

**_-Joelle8_**


	8. Bellatrix Lestrange

What You Never Knew

**Bellatrix Lestrange: The Actress**

1. She loved her parents.

This may not seem so unusual except for the fact that Druella and Cygnus Black did not return her affections. Yes, they were proud of her; yes, they did all they could to raise her to "right"; but it was clear to all who knew the Black family that Druella and Cygnus Black did not love their eldest. It was for this reason that Bellatrix hid her love for them- she did not want to be told what she already knew.

2. Andromeda was her favorite sister.

For the longest time, her best friend was her younger sister by two years. They did everything together- rarely was "Bellatrix" said in a sentence without "Andromeda" following it, or the other way around. In Hogwarts, despite Andromeda being Sorted into Slytherin, this all changed. For that, Bellatrix hated Hogwarts forever.

3. The Sorting Hat tried to put her in Gryffindor.

The worst part was that it wasn't even teasing her- she was 110% sure that that idiotic hat would've put her into Gryffindor if she had let it. The memory was clear in her mind, taunting her…

"Black, Bellatrix!" Professor McGonagall called, and the aforementioned girl strutted to the stool. Her long ringlets of black hair flowed behind her, her coal black eyes stared straight ahead, standing out from her abnormally pale skin. A confident smirk was firmly planted on her face as she elegantly sat down onto the stool and the Hat was placed onto her head.

_Another Black, eh? I take it you're hoping for Slytherin?_

**Yes, I am. Now hurry up and put me there.**

_Not so fast, Bellatrix. I'm not sure Slytherin is the best fit for you._

**Tha- wait, WHAT?! **

_You have a startling amount of bravery and skill, and should you choose to use them for the right purposes, you could be an outstanding Gryffindor! Plus, your loyalty to your family and beliefs is quite astounding, if I do say so myself._

**There is NO WAY I am suited for Gryffindor! How dare you say such a thing, you moronic piece of fabric?!**

_See? That's bravery right there! It takes nerve to insult me, Miss Black. I decide your future for the next seven years, after all._

**Put. Me. In. Slytherin.**

_Gryffindor would really be much better for you…_

**I don't care. I'm a Black- I was **_**born **_**to be in Slytherin. Put me there. NOW.**

_Well, if you're quite sure. I wouldn't be surprised if you regretted it later, though. _"SLYTHERIN!"

4. She hated Regulus.

Regulus may have been her cousin, as well as a firm believer in pureblood beliefs, but he was always such a… follower. He would do whatever someone told him to do, and had no qualms about it; he never questioned an order. Ever. This irked Bellatrix to no end; how could a member of the Noble House of Black have such little free will?! It was for this reason she secretly preferred Sirius. He was stubborn; he would argue; he had a mind of his own. So, really, Bellatrix wasn't all that surprised when he was Sorted into Gryffindor. She still preferred him.

5. The best thing her parents ever did for her was arrange her marriage to Rodolphus.

There were so many other, more vile choices. Rodolphus, at least, was handsome; not to mention exceedingly intelligent and witty, always able to have a good banter with Bellatrix. Even though he was a year older than her, she associated with him often, as they ran in the same social circles. In fact, they saw each other so often that when they first discussed their engagement, it wasn't even awkward.

"Oi! Bella!" Rodolphus called, jogging down the hallway to catch up with the Sixth Year. She whirled around and smiled at him.

"Hello, Rod," she said. "What's up?"

"I need to talk with you," he said, pulling her into a deserted corridor. Bellatrix frowned, confused, just as Rodolphus asked, "Have your parents written to you recently?"

"No," Bellatrix answered, "why?"

"I just got a letter from my parents," he began, "and they told me that we're betrothed."

Bellatrix cocked her head to one side. "Really?"

"Really."

"…Well, that's good to know."

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow disbelievingly at her. "I tell you that we're supposed to be married, and all you do is say that's 'good to know'?!"

"Well, we knew we'd both have to be engaged to _someone _eventually," Bellatrix explained. "There are only so many choices. We shouldn't be so surprised. Besides, it _is _good to know."

"True," Rodolphus conceded. "So… what now?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Want to go to lunch?"

"Sure."

And that was that.

6. The saddest day of her life was her wedding.

Yes, she had grown to love Rodolphus, but looking out at the attendants of her wedding, she noticed, with a pang in her heart, the absence of her favorite sister and cousin. Her parents were there, smiling lovingly at her for once in her life; and yet, even that didn't fill the hole in her heart.

7. She was almost a mother.

Rodolphus had wanted an heir to the Lestrange fortune, and so, Bellatrix had provided. Or at least, she had tried to. Three times, the pregnancy test answered "positive". Two were miscarriages- one six months in, another eight. The last pregnancy was a stillbirth. That was the one day Bellatrix cried. The sight of her beautiful baby daughter, with her black curls and Rodolphus' bright blue eyes, dead, broke her heart. From that point on, Bellatrix refused to try having a baby again. She was afraid of losing her child, and feeling that awful heartache.

8. She never loved Lord Voldemort.

People thought she did, mainly because she acted like she did. This was utterly untrue. She merely believed him to be the epitome of all of her beliefs- and for this, she sat him on a pedestal, the one person higher than herself. It was her dream, she would readily admit, to someday be as powerful as him, to be in the same authoritative position as him. She knew how to climb the ranks of power; she knew that first, she would have to become his right-hand woman. Acting like she loved him was all part of her game.

9. She only used the Killing Curse once.

Nobody knew that she had killed Sirius by accident, that she hadn't meant for her Stunning spell to push him through the Veil to death. She tortured many people; she injured many people; she did unspeakable things to everyone she could, but only once did she deliberately murder someone. That someone was her niece, Nymphadora Lupin. She was the result of Andromeda and Ted, that horrid Mudblood. She was a living reminder to Bellatrix that her sister had abandoned her, the result of her best friend leaving her. That spurred unquenchable anger in Bellatrix. So she used the Killing Curse for the first time. She never regretted it. She didn't have time to.

10. It wasn't surprising that Molly Weasley killed her.

Molly had always been an exceedingly talented witch; even Bellatrix had to admit that. To herself, that is. But above everything else, Molly had always been protective of the people she loved. She had only been two years above Bellatrix in Hogwarts, so Bellatrix had been able to witness the protectiveness Molly displayed over Arthur- even though he was a year older than her- as well as her close circle of friends, and, of course, her brothers, Gideon and Fabian, who were both in Bellatrix's Year. So, when Bellatrix had taunted her about her son dying, she had known that she would die that day.

Bellatrix Lestrange was many things, and felt many things. Nobody but herself knew everything about her and her feelings. She hid them well. The term "actress" is one virtually unknown to the Wizarding World. And yet, Bellatrix Lestrange, pureblood extraordinaire, might just have been the greatest actress to ever live- because nobody, not even Severus Snape, saw through her disguise. _That _is the mark of a true Actress.

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**_Ah, Bellatrix. You gotta hate her, but you gotta love her! Please review- I need 3 before I update!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	9. Minerva McGonagall

What You Never Knew

**Minerva McGonagall: The One Who Died Alone**

She was a Muggleborn.

This was a fact that surprised many people when they heard it, considering that when Hogwarts was taken over by Death Eaters, Minerva was not taken away. Not to mention she was an exceptionally gifted witch. But the truth remained that Minerva was just as surprised as her parents when a tall man with auburn hair and purple robes arrived at her house just after her eleventh birthday. That was the first- and certainly not the last- time she speculated about her true parentage. She had always wondered why she bore no resemblance to any of her relatives…

Poppy Pomfrey was her best friend.

Of course, when Minerva met the timid brunette, she had been Poppy Matthews. They met the way many Hogwartians did: by sitting in the same compartment on the Hogwarts Express on their first train ride to school. From the moment Poppy asked Minerva if she could try healing a scab on her knee, the two were best friends.

The Sorting Hat irked her.

It didn't even talk to her! Professor Dumbledore just dropped it on her head and a second later, she was walking to an applauding red and gold table. She couldn't help but feel slightly offended by this; the hat talked to everyone else, so why not her? Was she _really _that easy to read?

She discovered she was adopted when she was thirteen.

Minerva had spent an hour relentlessly badgering her mother to show her her birth certificate, still suspicious of her actual parentage, when Mrs. McGonagall had finally broken down into tears.

"I- I'm so, so s-s-sorry," Minerva's mother had blubbered to her, plopping down on the couch in the living room. "I sh-should've told you, but I- I was afraid you wouldn't f-f-feel the same about us!"

"Mum, how could you think that?" Minerva had asked, quietly sitting down next to the crying woman, understanding that she was, indeed, adopted. "You raised me- you took me in. We may not be related by blood, but you're still my mother."

"Oh, Minnie!" Mrs. McGonagall sobbed, throwing her arms around her daughter, tears still streaking down her cheeks. Minerva awkwardly hugged her back, never having been one for hugs- even from her own mother.

"Mum…"

"Yes, dear?" Minerva's mother sniffled, her eyes damp, but not dripping as she let go of her daughter.

"Where did you find me?"

Mrs. McGonagall took a deep, shuddering breath before admitting, "Your father and I… well, we married older than most, and by that time, I was unable to have children. But we wanted desperately to be parents. So, we went from orphanage to orphanage, looking for the perfect child for us. We found you at Wool's Orphanage in London when you were two years old, and for us… it was love at first sight." Minerva's mother smile was watery.

"Why was I in an orphanage?" Minerva asked, curiosity rendering her unable to help herself.

"The orphanage director, Mrs. Cole, told us what she had heard, but if you ask me, love, I don't think it's completely believable."

"What is it?"

"She said that there had been a fire, in your family's house. Apparently, the firefighters hadn't been able to put out the fire- the water didn't work on it, for whatever reason. The firefighters later claimed that there were _creatures_, or something, in the fire- but that's another matter. Anyways, according to Mrs. Cole, a group of people with black cloaks showed up and somehow managed to put out the fire and rescue how- but your parents were already dead. Wool's Orphanage was right down the street from you, so that's where you were taken. You were only a year old at the time."

"Oh," was all Minerva managed to say. "Well… okay, then."

Then, Mr. McGonagall had come home from work, and the family had dinner.

She met Tom Riddle in her Sixth Year.

He was in the year below her, and though she had certainly heard of him and seen him in the corridors, she had never spoken to him- and, in truth, had no particular desire to. This all changed when he dumped one of her Ravenclaw friends, Alyssa Murphy, breaking her heart into itsy bitsy little pieces.

"Riddle!" Minerva had barked, angrily storming over to the boy and his posse of Slytherin cronies. She glared at the cronies and ordered, "Go. Now."

The cowards took no time in scattering.

"What do you want?" Tom had snapped, his demeanor somehow still cool and composed. "I don't believe I've spoken to you."

"Minerva McGonagall. Sixth Year."

"Ah- yes, I've heard of you. Your reputation in Transfiguration particularly."

"Yeah, yeah, great. That's not what I'm here to discuss." Mienrva could see why all of the teachers, except perhaps Professor Dumbledore, loved the Fifth Year Slytherin: he was, in one word, a flatterer.

"Then what are you here to discuss?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Alyssa," Minerva told him. "Why did you break up with her? She did nothing, absolutely _nothing, _wrong! She gave you space, didn't badger you about anything- she even helped you with your homework! So why did you break up with her?!"

Tom shrugged as if it was no big deal. "I don't love her."

"So what, you were just leading her on?" Tom said nothing, and Minerva's eyes narrowed into vicious slits. "You _were_! How _dare _you! Why'd you do it, huh? _Why_? It's just plain evil! Not to mention cruel, malicious-"

"-Cunning, sly? Say what you want, Minerva McGonagall- I was just being a Slytherin."

He was up against the wall, the Gryffindor's wand pressed to his throat, before he could say, "Ha". Minerva growled at him, "So you toyed with Alyssa's emotions just to impress your friends? Your _henchmen_? I didn't know even a Slytherin could sink _that _low."

"Put your wand back, Minerva," Tom ordered calmly. "You don't want to duel me."

Minerva snorted. "I'm older and smarter than you, Riddle. You don't intimidate me."

With that, she promptly turned the Slytherin into a teapot and walked away smiling. She didn't even care that she got a detention- and a lifelong enemy- because of it.

She never thought that she would want to become a teacher.

In fact, throughout all her Hogwarts Years, she had her heart set on becoming an Auror. She did become one, actually- and was pretty darn good. Then, she had met with Professor Dumbledore just after he was dubbed Headmaster, and he asked her if she would please consider taking on the position of Transfiguration professor in his place. At first, she had politely declined; but Dumbledore was persistent, and eventually, Minerva found herself drawing up lesson plans. And, one day, she found herself wondering why she ever even considered being an Auror in the first place.

When she was forty-seven years old, she went to visit Wool's Orphanage.

The curiosity had become too much for her, and one day, Minerva found herself introducing herself to Mrs. Cole as "the little girl adopted by Harold and Margaret McGonagall in 1927". Mrs. Cole had been exceedingly welcoming, and had given her a tour of the orphanage, introducing her to each child they came across. She only left out one thing- or tried to.

"Wait, what about that room?" Minerva asked as Mrs. Cole warily glanced at a door out of the corner of her eye and hurried by.

"Oh, you- you don't want to go in there," Mrs. Cole assured her. "It's nothing special- it's just like every other room. Come, let's keep going."

"Why can't I see it?" Minerva wondered indignantly.

"Well, you see, we think it might be… haunted."

"Haunted?" Minerva laughed. "Oh, and why is that?"

"We've tried putting children in that room, to live in of course, but they always end up with the worst nightmares, or snakes in their beds, or something equally horrible," the orphanage director explained. "No one since _him _has been able to live in that room- sometimes I wonder if he left something in there."

" 'He'? Who's 'he'?"

"Tom Riddle."

Minerva sucked in a breath. It couldn't possibly be the same Tom Riddle who she had gone to school with, who had broken her friend's heart, who was supposedly Lord Voldemort nowadays- according to Albus, at least? "Did he have black hair, brown eyes, and pale skin? Rather mean?"

"Yes! H- How did you know?"

"He went to school with me," Minerva admitted. "I haven't seen him in years, though."

"Probably better for you… he was always a rather suspicious child, fightened the other children terribly… well, let's stop dwelling now, shall we? The kitchen's just ahead."

"Lead the way."

James Potter was her godson.

His mother, Eleanor, was one of her good friends, as was James' father, Nicholas. Nevertheless, Minerva was surprised- but extremely pleased- when she was chosen to be young James' godmother. That was why she always had a soft spot for the boy, his friends, and the mischief they made: James was like the son she never had, but always wanted.

She offered to take Harry Potter in when James and Lily died.

After all, since James was her godson, Harry was very nearly her grandson. Alas, Albus refused, insisting on giving Harry- sweet, lovable, adorable little Harry- to the Dursleys, to be their responsibility to raise and care for. Minerva, for the rest of her life, resented Albus for this. Sure, she understood her friend's reasons, but couldn't help but think every so often, _I would be a good grandmother._

She hated being Headmistress of Hogwarts.

She loved Hogwarts, with all her heart; but she loved, no, _adored_ teaching. As Headmistress, Minerva couldn't teach- instead, she had to watch her replacement teach Transfiguration, teach _her subject_. It made Minerva insanely jealous, even though she realized it was foolish of her to feel that way. So, in 2017, she retired, having decided that she had done her duty to Albus long enough.

Minerva McGonagall was universally respected by the Wizarding World. She was also loved by many of her students- current, and former- as well as her numerous friends. But Minerva was one of the few people in the world who never found her true love, never found someone she could imagine spending the rest of her life with or raising children with. And so, loved though Minerva McGonagall was, when she died- at the sprightly age of 132- she died alone.

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**_LOVE McGonagall! Tell me what you think of my take on her- in a review! :) I need three before I update again, please! Thanks!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	10. Tom Marvolo Riddle

What You Never Knew

**Tom Marvolo Riddle: The Teacher**

1. He could remember the day he was born.

He also presumed he was the only person who could do so. And yet, he remembered everything in perfect detail. The weather outside was dark and gloomy; lightning flashed, thunder roared, rain poured during by the tons. He remembered soft, pale hands pulling him out of a dark, wet place (that he learned about later in life) and hurriedly drying him off with a fluffy towel. He had been wrapped in the towel, and had finally let out an earsplitting cry. He felt the woman holding him breathe a sigh of relief as she rocked him back and forth, his head tucked in the crook of her arm. The woman had then walked over to another woman- this one with lank, brown hair- on a bed, who was lying perfectly still with yet another woman by her side- this one with grey hair. The grey hair lady had had tears in her eyes, and instructed that he was to be named Tom Marvolo Riddle. And so he was.

2. He had a friend- a true one- once.

She was a year older than him, and for his first year of life, they spent nearly all of their time playing together. He heard Mrs. Cole talking about her once; the orphanage director called the girl "Minnie". Only when Tom arrived at Hogwarts did he realize that "Minnie" went by "Minerva McGonagall", and that Minerva had no idea whatsoever that they had once been best friends. And- for some strange reason- that hurt. So he closed off his heart from everyone else, because he hated pain.

3. When he was five years old, he killed someone.

He hadn't meant to. She was a volunteer in the orphanage, and she had spent a whole hour coddling him, telling him, "Aww, aren't you just the cutest thing? Cute wittle Tommy!" When she had _finally _left, she fell down the staircase, hit her head, and never opened her eyes again. Nobody accused Tom of anything- he had been in his room, after all. Nonetheless, deep down, he knew he had done it.

4. He had a grudge against the Sorting Hat.

When he had been Sorted, that blasted hat had _teased _him. Him! Tom Marvolo Riddle! This was unacceptable in Tom's book- _nothing _was allowed to tease him. In fact, nothing was allowed to even breathe a word to him unless given his express permission! And so, sixty years later, surrounded by his Death Eater followers as well as the Hogwartians of that era, he had taken advantage of his opportunity to punish Neville Longbottom, and had used it to punish that ruddy hat as well.

5. Albus Dumbledore was his favorite teacher.

Yes, Tom later hated Albus, with every fiber of his being; but during his school days, Dumbledore was the only teacher he respected. Dumbledore was the one teacher who didn't believe him automatically, who actually challenged him, who could see right through him. For that, Albus Dumbledore was his favorite, and most respected, teacher. Later in life, looking back on his schooldays, Tom saw that he should've known that Albus would someday oppose him all along.

6. His first "friend" was Scelero Lestrange.

They had met at the Slytherin House table, during their first feast- for both of them.

"Hello. What might your name be?" Tom turned from his plate of food to see a boy around his age sticking out his hand expectantly. The boy had slicked back black hair, sharp black eyes, and a cunning smirk; surveying him, Tom deemed him worthy of his company.

"Tom Riddle," Tom replied, firmly shaking the boy's hand. "And you are…?"

"Scelero Lestrange," the boy told him, sitting up a little straighter as he said it. Clearly, he was proud of his heritage. "I don't recognize your last name, Riddle… what blood do you have?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know- are you a pureblood, a half-blood, or a Mudblood?" Scelero asked haughtily. "I do hope you're pureblood."

"Of course I am!" Tom exclaimed indignantly, as if insulted that his blood could have ever been doubted; when in reality, he had no idea what type of blood he had. Obviously, though, it was important to be pureblood; so, he would act as if he was.

Scelero smiled. "Good. That means we can hang out."

"Yes. I would _hate _to be seen associated with a _Mudblood_," Tom stated, feigning a shudder as he vowed to figure out what all these terms meant later. Scelero seemed to be pleased again.

"I couldn't agree more, Tom. Pass the peas, will you?"

"Of course."

7. He first started hating Mudbloods when he learned what the term meant.

In the beginning, he thought that the way some students- called "Mudbloods" by his Slytherin peers- were teased was rather cruel. Then he learned that a "Mudblood" was born from non-magical, or Muggle, parents, and he could see why they should be exterminated. He had grown up with Muggles, and not a single one had ever treated him kindly or with respect. In fact, most of them had been downright evil to him. Why would any other Muggles be different? They were all the same- filthy, evil animals who didn't deserve to live. So Tom became the ringleader of the Mudblood-haters; a position that lasted for the rest of his life.

8. Nagini was his only _real _friend.

Some of his followers would claim to be, he was sure- and he might even allow Scelero the honor of saying that. But Nagini was the only one who had stuck with him through everything. He remembered when he found her- or, more accurately, when_ she_ found _him_.

Tom was seventeen years old, and was spending his last summer at that dratted orphanage. He had decided to join the other children on the trip to the nearby village; it was near that wonderful, memorable cave, and Tom would enjoy one more trip to the cave where he had tortured so many pitiful children.

When the group went to the village, Tom snuck away by himself to go visit the cave. He sat down on a damp rock inside, gazing fondly around- there was a splatter of blood on a stone from Amy Benson that he was quite proud of, there was the rock that created a permanent scar in Dennis Bishop's fragile little arm, there was-

A snake. A deep green, scaly, marvelously large snake coming straight towards him. Tom smirked as the snake hissed, "Who daresssssss disssssturb my cave?"

"It is I," Tom hissed back in the language he now knew was called Parseltongue. "Pardon me, snake. I did not know you lived here."

"How do you sssspeak my language?" the snake asked Tom, slithering in circles around his feet.

"Salazar Slytherin, the great wizard, is my ancestor. Do you know of him?"

"Yesssss, SSSSSlytherin isssss well known amongst us ssssnakes. Any dessscendant of hissss isss welcome here. What isssss your name, Heir of SSSSlytherin?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. And yours, snake?"

"I am Nagini."

Tom thought for a moment before asking Nagini, "Would you like to come with me, Nagini?"

Nagini hissed angrily, "I will not be reduccced to that of a housssse pet! I am not that shameful!"

Tom smiled; that had been exactly the response he had been hoping for. "Oh, but Nagini, you would be no house pet; you are much too good for that. You would be my ally; to use a Mudblood phrase, my partner-in-crime. No snake deserves to be domesticated. Snakes are too good for that."

Nagini was silent for a moment before she slithered up Tom's leg, up his torso, under his arm, and ending around his neck, as if she was a scarf draped there. "If you dare treat me below what I desssssssserve, Tom Marvolo Riddle, I will kill you."

"Spoken like a true snake," Tom complimented, standing up and preparing to make his way back to the orphanage group.

He couldn't want to see their pathetic, frightened faces.

9. He recognized Harry Potter's eyes.

No, he did not see Lily Potter's eyes; he saw the eyes of another woman. He did not know her name, her occupation, or anything of that sort; he had needed to kill someone to turn Slytherin's locket into a Horcrux, and had come upon the Muggle woman. She had stared at him with large, frightened green eyes, somehow knowing that he was going to kill her. He had done just as she expected, and then gone on his not-so-merry way. Only when he looked into Harry Potter's eyes did he realize that the Muggle woman he had murdered so many years earlier had been the boy's maternal grandmother.

10. Regulus Black had been his favorite Death Eater.

He had been efficient, loyal, and skilled; not to mention, he hosted a healthy amount of skepticism. When Regulus disappeared, Tom merely assumed that he had died doing his mission (which was to track down and kill his brother, Sirius), like the best Death Eaters did. Because Regulus was the _best _Death Eater. He never found out that Regulus had betrayed him- if he had, then his fury would have been enough to shake the world. Tom Riddle _hated _being disobeyed- it was a sign of not being in total control, of not being as powerful as he could be. Being powerful and in control were the bases of Tom's beliefs.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was, once upon a time, a fairly normal boy. Over time, however, he met new people, was introduced to a whole new world, and discovered what exactly made him so different- and how he could use his differences to his advantage. Most of all, though, he learned. He learned about his heritage, and what came along with it; he learned the truth about the Wizarding World; he learned that, among his "friends", Muggles were swine, and learned to agree with this opinion; he learned that he could conquer death, that it wasn't as impossible as everyone said; he learned that in order to rule, a dictatorship was the best method- providing that he was the dictator- and that whoever wasn't a pureblood deserved to be killed. He taught beliefs and magic to himself, as well as to others, just as much as he learned things. And so, Tom Marvolo Riddle was as much a teacher as he was the greatest Dark Wizard of all time.

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**_I don't much like this chapter. What do you think? Please review! I still need three before I update again!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	11. Sirius Black

What You Never Knew

**Sirius Black: The Man Who Learned**

He used to look up to his parents.

Once upon a time, Sirius believed all the rubbish his parents spewed at him and Regulus, about how Muggles were filth and the Dark Lord was basically God. For years, to Sirius, his parents were practically superheroes: his father was powerful, if strict, and his mother was beautiful and always right. Always. Sirius may very well have ended up like the rest of his family if not for one experience…

"Father!" A seven-year-old Sirius called, trying his best to keep his back straight as he ran eagerly to find Orion Black.

Sirius frowned when he received no response; usually, he was at least told, "I'm busy, Sirius!" After a few minutes, he decided that he would have to find his father for himself, and dashed to the study, where Orion Black most often resided. Sirius heard his father murmuring from inside the room, and was about to push open the door when a new, unfamiliar voice- this one high and cold- spoke that made him shiver and press his ear against the door.

"You have done well, Orion Black," the high voice said. "Are you sure you do not want to join my ranks? You would be a valuable Death Eater."

"I am honored, my Lord," Sirius heard his father begin, "but I would prefer to remain without the Mark, if it is alright with you."

"And why is that? Are you, perhaps, not as loyal to me as you act?"

"My allegiance will always rest with you and your cause!" Orion proclaimed immediately. "I merely do not want those blasted Aurors to have a reason to convict me. Besides, do you not think it wise to have servants who can do your bidding, but cannot be arrested for it, because there is no proof that they are a Death Eater?"

There was a moment of silence, and Sirius trembled with fear as the high voice declared, "Your logic is good, Orion. I am impressed. I will contact you again when I require another service of you."

"Of course, my Lord. I will be waiting."

There was a pause. "Your son, I believe, is waiting for you outside the door," the high voice jeered. Sirius froze- how had the stranger known? "In fact, he has been there for the majority of our conversation."

Sirius could feel his father's anger through the door. "I am sorry, my Lord. That is my eldest, Sirius. He is a curious boy. Forgive me, on his behalf."

"He has done no harm. In fact, Orion- bring him in. I would like to meet him."

Sirius stood up, brushed off his jacket, and straightened his posture just as his father opened the door. With a warning glare, he ordered, "Come, Sirius." Without a word, Sirius did as he was told, and strutted into the room. He was greeted by the sight of a pale, red-eyed man wearing a black cloak. Pure evil radiated from him, and Sirius forced himself not to cringe and back away.

The evil man stepped closer to Sirius, surveying him, and in the high voice, asked, "This is your son? Sirius, I believe you said?"

"The third," Sirius added. "Sirius Black the third."

The evil man nodded briefly. "He knows his heritage. Good." Turning to Sirius' father, he continued, "You have produced a good son, Orion, from what I can tell. Goodbye." He snapped his fingers and Apparated away on the spot. Orion turned towards his eldest son with pure rage etched on his every feature. Sirius trembled, and then- it happened.

His father hit him.

It was a smack to the face, and it brought Sirius to the ground. He tenderly placed his hand over his cheek, looking up at his father, silently asking, "Why, Father? What did I do?" wondering what the man he so idolized had turned into.

"Stupid boy!" Orion spat. "Do not dare eavesdrop on my conversations again, or you will receive much more pain than this! Go to your room!"

Sirius obeyed, glaring at his father as he stood up, a hand still on his cheek.

That was the moment he started hating his family.

Regulus idolized him.

For the longest time, Regulus trailed after his older brother like a little lost puppy. Sirius found that he enjoyed it; he enjoyed being able to teach his personal, different beliefs to his brother; he enjoyed having a constantly loyal companion; he enjoyed the warm feeling of being looked up to. When Sirius left for Hogwarts, he was sure that when he returned home, Regulus would still welcome him, regardless of what House he had been Sorted into. Alas, when Sirius went home for the summer- he had not been allowed to over Christmas- he had opened his arms wide, expecting a hug from Regulus as was per usual, and had instead been rewarded with an icy glare.

The happiest moment of his life was when he was Sorted into Gryffindor.

Ah, that blessed Sorting Hat. What a marvelous thing. To Sirius, the Hat was the epitome of goodness and kindness. Even if it had questioned him at first.

**Sirius Black, eh? **The Hat clarified upon being plopped on top of Sirius' head. **Hoping for Slytherin, I assume?**

_Please, no, _Sirius begged the Hat. _I'll do anything, just _please _don't put me in Slytherin._

**Well, well, well! A Black that doesn't want to be a Slytherin? What has the world come to?!**

_I'm the only one, don't worry. Can you hurry up and Sort me now, please?_

**Alright… are you **_**sure **_**you don't want to be in Slytherin? You have all the qualities, and you'd be with your family-**

_That's exactly why I DON'T want to be in Slytherin! I hate my family! Well, except for Andromeda, but this is her last year, anyways!_

**Ah, yes, I remember Andromeda Black. I so wanted to put her in Ravenclaw- she insisted on Slytherin, though, so I gave it to her. **

_She's never been as evil as the others. She'd be a good Ravenclaw. She's real brainy._

**That she is… anyways, we're getting off topic! Hmm, let me see… loyal… fairly talented… rebellious, certainly, if nothing else… very, very brave… A-ha! I have it! **"GRYFFINDOR!"

Sometimes, he wished he was Remus.

Remus Lupin was intelligent, reasonably handsome, kind, well-liked, and had the most loving family a person could ever hope for. For the first year and a half Sirius knew Remus, he envied him; he was jealous of the love Mr. and Mrs. Lupin always gave to their son, wanted to be loved the same way by his own parents. Sirius would occasionally find himself subconsciously glaring at Remus, wanting nothing more than to be in his position. Then, towards the end of Second Year, Sirius, James, and Peter discovered that Remus had lycanthropy. Suddenly, Sirius wasn't so envious anymore.

He hated someone even more than he hated Severus- "Snivellus"- Snape.

He mainly hated Snivellus because he was a slimy, mean, Dark-Arts-obsessed Slytherin; a hatred that only increased when Sirius' best friend, James Potter, became infatuated with Lily Evans, who was Snape's best friend/obvious love interest. But there was someone who he hated more than Severus Snape, and that person was Sasha Berg, who loathed him with every microscopic fiber of her being.

During their last two years of Hogwarts, she taught him how thin the line between love and hate really is.

The day James and Lily got married was the happiest day of his life.

His best friend couldn't have been happier if he had tried. It was clear that James was over-the-moon as he said, "I do," to Lily Evans, who finally- after so many long years he spent trying to woo her- returned his love. Sirius had felt honored to be by James' side up at the altar as best man, and couldn't stop grinning to save his life, simply because the people he loved were so incredibly happy.

He loved laughing.

So, when he discovered that Peter- one of his best friends- was the reason that James and Lily were dead, that Harry was an orphan, he laughed. He laughed madly, crazily, but he laughed. He had grown up believing that laughter was basically the cure to life's problems- it made the person who had laughed feel better, it made other people feel better, and it lightened the mood in general. And so Sirius laughed, trying to ease the pain, trying to somehow mend the gaping hole in his heart. When the Aurors arrived, he kept laughing- only by that point, it was more sobbing than anything else. The Aurors never noticed.

After escaping Azkaban, Sirius saw Remus once before they met inside the Shrieking Shack.

Remus had been in Hogsmeade one evening, enjoying a mug of warm butterbeer in the Hog's Head by himself. Sirius had been wandering Hogsmeade, starving and looking for scraps of food, when he had spotted his old friend through the window.

_Moony, _Sirius thought, seeing the unmistakable tired, scarred face of one of his best friends. Forgetting that he was a wanted criminal for a moment, he padded closer to the window, standing on his hind legs with his paws against the windowsill to get a closer look. Remus had a book in his hand- _As usual, _Sirius chuckled to himself in his dog form- and looked to be immensely enjoying the peace.

Sirius' dog eyes squinted, and he could barely make out the title of the book: Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Teacher's Guide. So Moony was the D.A.D.A. teacher! Sirius grinned (as much as a dog could). _I always thought he'd be a good teacher._

Suddenly, Remus looked up. For a split second, he seemed to not recognize the dark, shaggy dog. Then, his eyes widened in shock and fear, he nearly dropped his book, and Sirius could just barely make out his lips forming the word, "Padfoot!"

Taking a chance, Sirius nodded his head sharply, his wagging tail just barely visible through the window, before dropping back down onto four legs and running away.

When Remus arrived outside, the dog was nowhere to be seen.

Being around Harry always made him feel guilty.

He loved Harry, he really did- Harry was the son he never had, but had always secretly wanted. And what was more, he knew that, to a degree, Harry saw him as a father of sorts, too. But that was just it: Harry was _James' _son, not his. As much as both parties may have wanted to be blood-related, they weren't, and never would be. So when Sirius was around Harry, he felt immeasurably guilty: guilty that he was alive when his best friend wasn't, guilty that he had been out of his godson's life so much too long, guilty that he was getting the chance to be a father to Harry when Harry's own father hadn't gotten the chance to.

Part of him always knew that Bellatrix would kill him.

When he had been Sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius had received a Howler from her. It had been just as awful as his mother's- if not worse.

Sirius sat at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by his new friends- Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew- when a black owl dropped yet another red envelope on his plate before hurriedly flying away. Sirius groaned as James asked disbelievingly, "_Another _one? Blimey, Sirius, your family must be really mad!"

"I knew they would be," Sirius grumbled.

"Just open it. It can't be worse than the other eleven, can it?" Remus smiled supportively- unfortunately, he wasn't exaggerating about the number of Howlers Sirius had received. Sirius grimaced, nodded in agreement, and tore open the envelope.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK!" Bellatrix Black's voice rang out through the hall. "HOW DARE YOU GET SORTED INTO _GRYFFINDOR_, THE HOUSE OF THE RECKLESS AND STUPID?! YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR! THE BLACKS HAVE BEEN PROUDLY ABLE TO SAY, FOR CENTURIES, THAT WE HAVE ALL BEEN IN SLYTHERIN- AND NOW, YOU HAVE TARNISHED OUR REPUTATION! YOU SHOULD FEEL ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! YOU ARE NEVER WELCOME BACK IN MY COMPANY!

"SOMEDAY, I WILL KILL YOU, SIRIUS BLACK!"

Bellatrix always kept her promises.

Sirius Black was a notorious prankster, a loyal friend, and an all-around brave man. But, above everything else, he was a man who learned. He learned that the beliefs he had grown up with were wrong; he learned that sometimes, a werewolf can be the nicest person in existence; he learned that hate could turn into love; he learned that a parent could be evil to their own child; he learned that life isn't fair, and sometimes, the people who deserved the best endings didn't get them. It was what Sirius learned that made him who he was.

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**_If you want to know more about Sirius and Sasha- my OC- read my fanfic, "Everyone Was Wrong"! It's all about Sirius and Sasha, their lives, and how they grew to love each other despite being enemies ever since they met! It's really good, if I do say so myself, and I'd be honored if you read it! I think all of you would really like it!_**

**_Please review! Three needed!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	12. Neville Longbottom

What You Never Knew

**Neville Longbottom: The King**

Laughter scared him.

It was irrational, admittedly, and he was smart enough to know it- but he simple couldn't help it. He wished, more than anything, that he could take comfort in the sound of laughing, that he was like everyone else and would laugh freely, whenever he could. But no matter what he did, laughter always terrified him. Because every time he heard someone laughing, he remembered a high, cruel laugh harmonizing with his mother's screams.

He hated his family.

Sure, he was grateful for them, and he _tried _to love them- but it was so, so hard. Whenever Neville saw his family, they would criticize him, tell him how stupid he was, and make bets about whether or not he'd end up being a Squib. And though Neville never showed it, each time he heard one of his relatives doing this, he felt a little bit more worthless.

His grandmother first took him to see his parents when eight.

He had just exhibited his first signs of magic, and though Great-Uncle Algie gave him Trevor, Neville was still unsettled. Augusta Longbottom could tell.

"What's wrong, Neville?" She asked him kindly one day as he played with his new pet toad.

"Nothing, Gran," Neville said, not looking her in the eye so she wouldn't know that he was lying. She knew anyways.

"Come now, Neville, you know you're a terrible liar. Tell me, what's on your mind?" She was being much more understanding than usual- Neville attributed this to the fact that he was not, in fact, a Squib, and she was extremely relieved.

"Gran… what happened to Mum and Dad?"

Augusta stiffened in her chair. She had put off telling Neville the truth about his parents, and she had warned the rest of their family to do the same. He was a fragile child, in her opinion; a bit of a softy. She didn't show it often, but she loved her grandson, and hated to see him get hurt. Then again, he had just proved he was a wizard- that he would be going to Hogwarts and following in his parents' footsteps.

He was ready.

"I'll take you to see them," she sighed finally. "We'll go tomorrow."

The next day, that was exactly what they did, and a young nurse admitted them into the long-term residency ward, full of witches and wizards that had been victims to permanent spells and curses. Mrs. Longbottom and Neville were led to the farthest end of the room, where two people were lying down on hospital beds; something was very clearly wrong with them.

One- a man- had thin, curly grey hair, and wrinkled skin. His eyes- which, for whatever reason, Neville recognized; he didn't know where from, though- were a dull brown, though showed traces of past vigor.

The other person, a woman, had wispy tendrils of grey hair. Her skin was wrinkled as well, though not as badly as the man's, and her body was permanently limp besides her hand, which kept twitching. Her eyes, however, were alert, darting every place, as if cautiously on guard, watching, almost… _waiting_.

"Who are these people, Gran?" Neville looked up at his grandmother confusedly. To his surprise, however, his stern, no-nonsense grandmother had tears in her eyes, and looked too choked up to speak. His brow furrowed in befuddlement, Neville looked into his grandmother's eyes, and saw something alarming.

She and the man on the bed had the same eyes.

So did he.

Neville instantly understood, and could only stare at his parents, wondering what in the world had happened to his parents, and why they had been reduced to this state.

"Their names are Alice and Frank," Augusta spoke suddenly through tears. "They met at Hogwarts; they were both in Gryffindor. Childhood sweethearts, they were. They became the Ministry's best Aurors- the only person who was better was Mad-Eye, bless him. But then…" She trailed off, swallowed a sob, and then forced herself to continue. "The Death Eaters- Lord Voldemort's followers, you've heard of him- they tortured your parents to insanity. You- you were just an infant."

Neville had nothing to say to that. Tears trailed down his cheeks as he looked down at his parents, wondering what they had been like one upon a time. Suddenly, rage filled him. "Which Death Eaters did it?"

"Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange; as well as Barty Crouch, Jr. They're all in Azkaban now, Neville- don't worry." Relief flooded Neville; if they were in Azkaban, they could never get out.

Alice shifted from her place on the bed, drawing Neville and Augusta's attention to her. Her eyes were fastened on Neville as she pulled a Dooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper out from under her pillow. Slowly, shakily, she held it out to Neville. Just as slowly, Neville took it from her. The barest ghost of a smile crossed his mother's face as she held his hand; and then she went limp once more, her eyes staring everywhere and nowhere.

"Thank you, Alice," Mrs. Longbottom told her daughter-in-law.

"Th-Thanks, Mum," Neville stammered. A smile's ghost crossed Alice's face again; she seemed to like being called 'Mum'.

"Never be ashamed of your parents, Neville. Honor them. They were brave, noble people, and should be remembered that way. Let's go now," Mrs. Longbottom instructed her grandson, and with a last look at his parents, he followed her out the door.

Hermione Granger was his first friend.

He met her on the train; both nervous, for similar reasons. They sat in a compartment together, and talked to each other; about their worries, about what they might learn. They talked about _everything_. It was the happiest moment of Neville's life at that point. Then, later in the year, they grew apart- Hermione became close friends with Harry and Ron, and Neville was left in the background.

The Sorting Hat mocked him.

It had been, without a doubt, the most humiliating moment of Neville's life- even though nobody could hear it.

"Longbottom, Neville!" Professor McGonagall declared to the Great Hall. Neville walked to the stool nervously- managing to fall over on the way- and did his best not to jump when he heard the Hat say,

**I knew your parents, Neville Longbottom.**

_I know. You know every witch and wizard in Britain._

**True, true… you know, you're nothing like your parents.**

_That's not true. I am like them._

**You WANT to be. There's a difference. Your father was one of the easiest students I've ever had the pleasure to Sort. Only took a second to decide he belonged in Gryffindor- what a brave, noble man. Same with your mother. A kind, bubbly girl at eleven. Still, with one look at the way she punched her cousin when he got on her nerves, I knew she belonged in the house of the red and gold, too. You, however… you're not **_**nearly **_**as easy.**

_…Oh._

**In fact, I wonder: are you even their son at all? You could be adopted, you know; it's always possible. I wouldn't doubt it, I-**

_SHUT UP!_

**...Ex**_**cuse **_**me?!**

_I told you to SHUT UP! I AM like my parents, I AM! I even have my dad's wand! Don't you dare accuse me of not being their son, because I am, and I know it! Yeah, I may be more scared than they ever were, but every person's different! You may be the Sorting Hat, but you have no right to tell me whether or not my parents are actually my parents! They ARE my parents, and I couldn't be prouder to be their son!_

**…Well, **_**that **_**was unexpected.**

_Sorry, I shouldn't have blown up at you._

**Don't apologize. I daresay I deserved it. Tell your parents that they should be awfully proud of their son.**

_Alright, but I don't think they'll understand me._

**And why not?**

_They- They were tortured into insanity by Death Eaters when I was a baby. They're in St. Mungo's now; they'll be there forever. They don't even know I'm their son._

**…And you deal with that every day of your life?**

_I don't have a choice, do I? _

**No, you don't. Well, this certainly makes my choice clearer. You're much more like your parents then I thought, Neville Longbottom. **"GRYFFINDOR!"

_Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!_

**You're quite welcome. Now please take me back to my stool.**

He always knew that Ginny and Harry were going to get together someday.

He may not have been the brightest, but he could tell that Ginny had a massive crush on Harry, and that the two would make the perfect couple. So, after discussing it with Hermione, he decided to ask Ginny to the dance, in hopes that Harry would be jealous and realize that, deep down, he fancied her. Alas, his plan didn't work- but Neville was proud to say that he tried.

He used the Cruciatus Curse.

In his opinion, Bellatrix deserved it; she most definitely did. She deprived him of being raised by his parents; she was the reason he was practically an orphan. It was her fault. _Everything _was her fault. And so, in the midst of the fighting, Neville had used the Cruciatus Curse on her. He had tried to make her feel the same pain she had but his parents through. Nobody ever knew that he succeeded.

He first talked to Hannah Abbott during the middle of the Final Battle,

He was throwing Fanged Geraniums at passing Death Eaters, rather enjoying their screams, when Hannah had come behind him and said, "Here- try throwing these at them."

She handed him the bucket of Bubotuber pus, smiling kindly at him. "Thanks," Neville smiled back. "Where'd you get this?"

"Professor Sprout said to give it to you," Hannah answered. "If you don't mind a suggestion, it would probably work best if you poured it out the window- then, none of the Death Eaters would see it coming, and you wouldn't have to touch it."

"Good idea; I never would've thought of it."

"Yes you would've. You're smart, Neville; brave, too. You would've thought of it eventually." With that, Hannah grinned at him one last time before darting down the corridor, shooting a Stunning Spell at some Death Eaters as she ran.

Neville stared at her retreating figure. Now _that _was a nice girl.

The happiest day of his life was when his twin children, Frank and Alice, were born.

Alice was a mirror image of her mother, and Frank was a miniature Neville. They were absolutely adorable, with their soft, tiny hands and their innocent smiles. They both grew up to be bright, beautiful and curious. Frank was as brave as his namesake, which was proved when he was Sorted into Gryffindor; Alice worked hard at everything she did, and so it was no surprise when she was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

Nor was it a surprise when, after fancying on him for years, she finally got together with Hugo Weasley.

He took Frank and Alice to visit his parents once.

The week before Neville's children went to Hogwarts for the first time, he decided that they were mature enough to visit their namesakes. And so, they were taken to St. Mungo's to see them.

"Where are they, Daddy?" Alice looked up at her father with wide, curious eyes, holding his hand.

"Yeah, we've been walking for _ages_," Frank added impatiently, trying in vain- again- to tug his hand out of Neville's.

"We're almost there, dear," Neville told her, squeezing their hands.

They finally arrived at the beds farthest from the door, and Neville fought away tears at the sight of his parents. "These are your grandparents," he told Alice and Frank.

Alice gasped and placed her hand over her mouth in horror, tears immediately beginning to trail down her cheeks.

"What _happened_ to them?" Frank wondered, staring utterly shocked at his grandparents.

"I've already told you, Frank," Neville said. "They were tortured into this state by Bellatrix Lestrange."

"You mean, the evil Death Eater Auntie Molly killed?"

"Yes, Alice."

"I'm baking her cookies for the next time we see her."

Neville chuckled at his daughter's proclamation just as his mother stretched her hand out to him. He stepped forward and accepted the usual gum wrapper- he had hundreds, all kept in a box in his room. Then, all of the sudden, a strangled sound came out of her mouth. Neville's eyes widened as he asked, "What was that, Mum?"

After a few minutes of making the strangled sound, Alice Longbottom (the first) choked out, "F-Fam-Family."

Neville collapsed to his knees with happy tears as he nodded, "Yes, Mum. We're your family."

Neville Longbottom's life was one filled of tragedy; heartbreak; suffering; danger; and more awful, unthinkable things. Nobody could have ever predicted that Neville would be gifted with a successful career, fame and admiration from the whole Wizarding World, a beautiful family, and even recognition from his mentally insane mother. And yet, in the end, Neville had all those things and more. In the end, Neville was a King in his own fairytale happy ending.

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**_Aww, I love Neville! I hope he has an ending at least somewhat like this- he deserves it._**

**_Now, second: why did only ONE person review (thanks, by the way, leahhg26) for the last chapter?! I need three before I update again this time! Heck, the only reason I update before three reviews this time is because this is my favorite chapter yet! So, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review for this chapter!!!!!!!!!!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	13. Colin Creevey

What You Never Knew

**Colin Creevey: The Boy Who Stood Out**

1. He hated April 5.

To anyone else in the world, April fifth was a perfectly normal day. For Colin, it marked sadness, tragedy, tears, an end, a beginning… it was the turning point for Colin. Before April 5, 1990, Colin was a _truly _happy, go-lucky child; after that awful, horrible day, Colin still _appeared _happy and go-lucky. But if you really looked hard enough, then you would notice the absence of twinkle in his eye, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, the hollowness in his laugh.

On April 5, 1990, nine-year-old Colin Creevey lost his mother.

2. He idolized his father.

Even after Colin's mother died, Mr. Creevey refused to sink in the deep hole of depression that captured so many other people whose beloved spouses had died. He continued his job as a milkman, and he was the best darned milkman in all of the English countryside. He wasn't _just _the neighborhood milkman- he was the most well-liked man in the neighborhood as well. Peoples' faces lit up when they saw him; wherever Colin's father went, voices would call out, "Hiya, Mr. Creevey!" or "Good morning, Mr. Milkman!" or "Hope to see you at the barbeque later, Nate!" Colin wanted nothing more in life than to be like his father- respected, loved, and happy.

3. He got his first camera when he was ten.

In honor of his turning double-digits, Nate Creevey presented his son with a brand spankin' new camera. In Colin's opinion, nothing was more beautiful. The way the black device shined in the light; the bright flash it created at the simple touch of a button; the way it captured life's most precious- or not- moments.

For Colin, it was love at first sight.

4. The Sorting Hat was very patient with him.

For whatever reason, most people grew rather annoyed with Colin, though he had no idea why. The Sorting Hat- whether by nature or by years of experience- was very kind to him, and understood him very well.

**So you're a Muggleborn, I see?**

_I sure am! Can I take a picture of you? I promised Pops that I'd take a picture of everything for him._

**I'd rather you not, actually. **

_Why not? I'm sure you take perfectly fine pictures! And even if you don't, it's nothing to be ashamed of; it shouldn't stop you from getting photographed. _

**All the same… can we get on with this, do you think? There are many other children still waiting to be Sorted.**

_Oh! Right! Well, go ahead, I guess. What is it exactly that you do?_

**I look at your personality, and decide which House you'd do best in here at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin.**

_That was a very well-rehearsed answer, wasn't it?_

**Quite honestly, I'm surprised you could tell. Perhaps Ravenclaw would be good for you- that's where the brainy ones go, you see, with the exception of Miss Hermione Granger. Such a clever girl I've never seen in all my years, but her bravery couldn't be overlooked…**

_Oh! I've heard of her! Isn't she friends with Harry Potter? I read about him in my textbooks!_

**Well, she certainly wasn't when I Sorted her, but that doesn't mean she couldn't be now, I suppose…**

_Oh, she is now, I'm sure of it! She and Ron Weasley! They're sitting together at a red and gold table now! Which House is that?_

**Ah, **_**that **_**is Gryffindor, Mr. Creevey. The House for those who are daring and chivalrous.**

_Ooooooooo! Can I go there? Please? I'd do anything to be in the same House as _Harry Potter_! He's _Harry Potter_, the Boy-Who-Lived, defeated of Voldemort!_

**You use You-Know-Who's name?**

_I don't see why not, really. It's just a name. Why be afraid of it?_

**…You and Miss Granger really aren't that different. Eager Muggleborns who would be fantastic Ravenclaws, but who will spend the rest of their Hogwarts Years in the House of the brave. **

_Does that mean you're putting me in Gryffindor? Oh, thank you, Mr. Sorting Hat! Thank you so much! D'you think you could put my brother, Dennis, in Gryffindor, too? He's coming in two years._

**That all depends on Dennis.**

_Oh, okay, then. _

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_…You're _sure _I can't take a picture of you?_

**Quite.**

5. Ginny Weasley was his first crush.

She was kind, pretty, brave, and smart; not to mention she would talk with Colin about Harry Potter whenever he wanted to. They were Herbology partners, so they knew each other very well. However, Colin's feelings for the youngest Weasley faded over time- though her clear affections for Harry certainly helped speed up matters.

6. He loved Dennis, his younger brother, more than anything in the world.

However cheesy it sounded, Dennis had stuck with him through anything- and, rather unusually, Colin never got tired of having his little brother follow him around adoringly wherever he went. For that, Colin cared about Dennis more than he cared about anyone else. Whenever anything happened to Dennis- like falling into the Black Lake- or Dennis did anything reckless- like joining the D.A., though Colin knew to blame himself for that- Colin went nearly insane with worry, even though he never showed it.

7. The one time he hated himself was when he talked to Rita Skeeter about Harry in Third Year.

He hadn't meant to say so much- it had just… spilled out. Colin had been so excited to have someone who wanted listen to him for a change that he had told Rita everything he knew- or could guess from observing- about Harry. Later on, seeing how embarrassed and upset Harry was made because of it, Colin regretted it with every bone in his body. And yet, he still wasn't brave enough to go up to him and apologize. It was times like those when Colin wondered if the Sorting Hat was bonkers.

8. He had his first kiss with Luna Lovegood in Fourth Year.

They were both in the D.A., learning how to fight for their lives if necessary, so they knew each others' names. Before randomly bumping into each other in the hall one day, though, they had never really spoken before.

"Sorry!" Colin exclaimed as he felt himself bump into someone, unable to see through his camera- his lens cap was still on. He let the camera hand around his neck so he could see, and saw Luna Lovegood kneeling on the ground, picking up her books, still smiling dreamily.

"It's quite alright," she assured him. She looked up at him and her eyes widened. "You have Wrackspurts in your head!"

Colin frowned. "What are Wrackspurts?"

"They're little invisible creatures. You can't feel them, but they fly around in your head," Luna explained patiently. "You know you're infested with them when your brain goes fuzzy. Can you see everything clearly right now, Colin?"

"I can see perfectly fine, thanks," Colin assured her, still rather confused. "Would you like me to help you pick up your books? You sure do have a lot of them."

Luna beamed at him. "No, thank you. It was very nice of you to offer, though." Her smiled fell a little. "Most people don't. They think I'm weird. They don't like hanging out with me."

Colin replied sympathetically, "I know what you mean. People don't like hanging out with me, either; they think I'm annoying." He grimaced sadly.

Luna stood up, her books gathered up in her arms. "Oh, I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don't find you annoying at all."

"You don't?"

"No. You just love photography, so you take photos. I actually think it's very admirable of you to keep doing what you love, no matter what people may think of it."

Before Colin could fully register what he was doing, he leaned down and quickly planted his lips against her. She was frozen with shock, but didn't back away. When Colin stood up straight again, both of them were blushing furiously. "S-Sorry," Colin stammered.

Luna grinned at him. "It's fine. You didn't know that mistletoe is full of Nargles." She pointed up, and there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging above their heads. "I'll see you in Charms, Colin." The Ravenclaw nodded to him before skipping away, her blond hair bouncing behind her.

Colin stared at her as she left. Even though part of him was relieved that the mistletoe happened to be there- it sure made the situation less embarrassing for him- he couldn't help but wish that Luna knew that he hadn't realized there was mistletoe in the first place.

And he couldn't help but wonder what Nargles were.

9. He had a gut feeling that the day of May 2, 1998, would be his last.

And so, before he had run out to join the battle- despite being specifically told that he wasn't allowed to- Colin took Dennis by the arm and led him in a corner away from the other students.

"What's going on, Colin?" Dennis asked his older brother confusedly. With one look at his face, he knew the answer. "You're going to fight."

"Yes," Colin replied gravely. "Listen, Dennis… just in case I don't come back… tell Pops I love him, okay?"

"But you _will _come back!" Dennis exclaimed. "…Right?"

"I'll do my best, Dennis," Colin assured him. "But… just in case, y'know?"

"Okay," Dennis nodded at him after a moment. "I'll tell Pops you love him."

Colin smiled. "Thanks, Dennis. And, by the way… if I don't come back, everything I own is yours to take."

"Really? Thanks!" Dennis grinned.

"And promise me something."

"Alright."

"Promise me that if I don't come back, you'll stay with Pops. Make sure neither or you do anything too drastic. Don't let my death stop you guys from living."

"But you're not going to die, Colin!"

"…Just promise me."

"Okay, I promise."

"Good." Colin hugged his younger brother. "I love you, Dennis. Now get back with the group, before they notice you're gone."

"I love you too, Colin. I'll see you after the battle!" Dennis squeezed his older brother around the waist and then, with one last smile, ran to catch up with his peers.

Colin watched him go, praying that he'd keep his promise.

10. The proudest moment of his life happened when he was dead.

You see, when you die, you don't just _disappear_. You either go to Heaven, or you go to Hell. Colin was lucky enough to go to Heaven, where, for the rest of his existence, he watched over Dennis and their father.

It was this way he saw Dennis name his first son Colin.

Throughout Colin's whole life, one thing was constant: his desire to fit in. The way he saw it, if you fit in, you had friends, and if you had friends, you had happiness; and Colin wanted that more than anything else in the world. He did, eventually, gain friends- but he didn't gain them from fitting in. He gained them from being himself and standing out. And so, on the day of the final battle, Colin stayed behind to fight, even though he had been specifically told that he wasn't allowed to. He had learned that sometimes, to do what is right, you have to be willing to stand out.

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**_Love it? Hate it? Please tell me in a review (still need 3 before I update)! Speaking of reviews..._**

**_THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH for all the reviews for the last chapter! You all make me feel so special! _**

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**

**_P.S. I changed this chapter because originally, I forgot the numbers. OOPS! Thanks to L.A.H.H. for point it out!_**


	14. Rubeus Hagrid

What You Never Knew

**Rubeus Hagrid: The World's Biggest Teddy Bear**

1. For years, he hated his mother.

He had known his mother for just over three years, and then she had left, leaving him motherless and his poor dad broken hearted. For years, Hagrid resented his mother for this; he wanted nothing to do with her. Nothing whatsoever. She could go rot with Satan for all he cared. Then, on his deathbed, his father told a twelve-year-old Hagrid, "She was a good woman, your mother. She grew up differently than us- she wasn't raised to live like this. It was too different for her. I understand why she left, and I respect that. Don't hate your mother, Hagrid."

For his father's sake, Hagrid loved his mother from that point on.

2. The Sorting Hat was prejudiced.

In fact, that infamous hat was the first person (or, rather, article of clothing) to display a hatred for giants. Because of this, Hagrid never forgot his conversation with the hat.

"Hagrid, Rubeus!" Professor Dumbledore's voice rang loud and clear throughout the Great Hall. A massive boy, nearing Dumbledore's height already, lumbered up to the stool, looking down shyly. Upon sitting down onto the stool, it promptly broke, and Hagrid plopped onto the ground. The Great Hall burst into laughter, and he felt tears fall slowly down his cheek, his face an embarrassed red. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he looked up into Professor Dumbledore's kind eyes, and saw that the older man was offering him a hand up. Sniffling, Hagrid accepted it, stood up, and sat down on the newly conjured- and much stronger- stool. Smiling at him, Dumbledore gently placed the ancient hat on his head.

_'__Lo, Mr. Hat, _Hagrid greeted nervously.

**Why, you're a polite one, I see! What a nice change of pace!**

_My ol' man taught me to be real nice an' polite to ev'ryone I meet._

**Oh, yes, I remember your father. Kind, but with a rather unhealthy obsession with magical creatures. Unusually short, too. Which makes me wonder- where on earth do you get your height from?**

_My mum, Mr. Hat._

**What's your mum's name, Hagrid?**

_Fridwulfa._

**Oh, well, that- that's a rather odd name. I don't remember hearing it before. I assume she wasn't a witch, then?**

_No, Mr. Hat._

**A Muggle, then, I presume.**

_No._

**...Not a Muggle **_**or **_**a witch? What is she, then?**

On his stool, Hagrid's chest puffed with pride as she silently declared, _A giantess!_

**A- A **_**giantess**_**?! Merlin's beard, I'm on top of a half-giant's head!**

_Is- Is tha' a problem, Mr. Hat?_

**Giants are evil, vicious creatures, young… er… one. You should not be proud of being related to one!**

_I don' mean no disrespect, Mr. Hat, bu' my ol' man always taught me tha' giants are beautiful, powerful creatures, an' that they were greatly misunderstood!_

**Your father was slightly barmy even at eleven. Don't listen to a word of that nonsense. There's not a single sane witch or wizard that doesn't hate giants.**

_Does tha' mean tha' I shouldn't tell people abou' mum?_

**Not if you want to have any friends!**

_Oh… okay, then. Would yeh mind Sortin' me now, Mr. Hat? I'm real hungry._

**Of course. Let's see… well, **_**that's **_**strange?**

_Wha' is?_

**Despite being raised by a giantess, it seems you don't have a single mean bone in your body!**

_Oh, I wasn't raised by 'er, Mr. Hat! She left when I was three._

**Well, I'm… sorry?**

_Don' apologize, Mr. Hat. Much thanks, though._

**You're welcome. Now, let's see… take no offense, Rubeus, but you're not brainy enough for Ravenclaw. I suppose Hufflepuff would work; you're quite hard working and loyal- but wait! What's this? You've got a lot of bravery! Yes, that settles it! **"GRYFFINDOR!"

_Thank you, Mr. Hat! My ol' man will be so proud!_

**Good luck, Rubeus. And remember: if anyone asks, your mother is not a giantess. I'm telling you this for your own good. Now put me back on my stool.**

3. The saddest day of his life was when his father died.

When Hagrid went home from his Second Year at Hogwarts to find his father unable to get out of bed, he had been surprised. He had spent the rest of his summer attempting to nurse his father back to health, but it was no use. Even the Muggle doctors hadn't really been able to help him- they had just offered to give him some sort of treatment that would make him lose all his hair. Hagrid and his father did not have enough money to pay for this, however, and so returned home even more dejected than before.

Despite all of Hagrid's efforts, his father died just over two weeks later.

4. In his three years at Hogwarts, he had one good friend.

Despite her being in Ravenclaw, they hung out whenever possible. They were the most unlikely friendship Hogwarts had ever seen; the annoying, acne plagued girl and the abnormally large, sensitive boy. However, they were both friendless except for each other, and this was what made their friendship one of the strongest Hogwarts had ever seen as well. The two could often be seen doing homework together in the library or looking at something rather furry in a large box.

Then, in the course of one day in their Third Year, both of them were forcibly taken out of school, never to sit in classes together or laugh with each other again.

Her name was Myrtle.

5. Sometimes, he really hated being gamekeeper.

Sure, he was grateful that he was able to stay on the Hogwarts ground, sometimes pick up a few spells from his former classmates. But those same former classmates took every opportunity they had to mock him, tease him, gloat about their promising magical futures, knowing full well that Hagrid would be stuck in his hut for the rest of his life. As gamekeeper, Hagrid was forced to look around and see what he could have had, what he could have been, the choices he could have had. And that hurt more than anything else.

6. Once, he confronted Tom Riddle.

It was just after the older boy had graduated and, for once, Tom was alone. So Hagrid took the opportunity to finally talk to him for the first time since being expelled.

"OI! RIDDLE!" Hagrid called, his long strides quickly catching up to the now-former Slytherin.

"What do you want, Hagrid?" Tom smirked. "Don't you have to catch up with old Ogg? You are his apprentice, after all."

"He gave me a break," Hagrid said sharply. "I need t' speak with ya, Riddle."

"Alright, then. Speak," Tom ordered, looking up into Hagrid's black eyes.

"Why'd yeh do it?" Hagrid asked.

"Do what?"

"Why'd yeh accuse me of killin' Myrtle?" Hagrid snapped. "Yeh know I wouldn't do tha', she was my friend!"

"Do I really know that, Hagrid?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "After all, we are in different Years- we rarely ever discoursed. In fact, this may be the fourth time in our lives we've ever had a conversation."

"Don' play dumb with me, Riddle!" Hagrid exclaimed. "We both know I'd never do that t' no one! What'd I ever do t' yeh, eh? Like yeh said, we could count the number o' times we've ever talked on one 'and! So why'd yeh do it?"

"I believed you guilty," Tom shrugged, his face showing even less than nothing. "In fact, I still do. I understand you wish things had turned out differently, Hagrid- but justice is justice, and I felt it was my duty to make sure it was served." He smiled charmingly at Hagrid before turning around and strutting away liked he owned the grounds.

"Yeh're lyin', Riddle!" Hagrid shouted after him, beady eyes narrowed. "Yeh may 'ave ev'ryone else fooled, bu' no' me!"

Slowly, Tom walked back, and spent a solid minute staring Hagrid straight in the eye before hissing, "Prove it."

Hagrid opened his mouth to speak, but closed it; he had no proof. Tom sneered triumphantly. "Exactly. You _have _no proof, Hagrid. Who would believe _you_, an awkward half-giant, over _me_- Head Boy and the most talented wizard Hogwarts has ever seen?"

Steeling his nerves, Hagrid spoke, "Yeh're no' the best wizard'ogwarts 'as ever seen. Professor Dumbledore is!"

Tom glared at him fiercely, almost as if he was cutting him with his eyes. "You're wrong, you great oaf. You'd do best to learn that."

Then he walked away once more, and this time, Hagrid didn't call him back.

7. He was to thank for James Potter and Lily Evans getting together.

Very few people knew this. However, both James and Lily often visited Hagrid in his hut- separately, of course- and all too often talked about each other. For the first few years, it was with hatred on both parts. Then, during the middle of his Fourth Year, James had announced, "Lily's beautiful, don't you think?" and from that point, the boy had never shut up about her many wonderful traits. He began to ask Lily out with fervor, causing her to complain about him to Hagrid even more than before. Hagrid, however, privately agreed with James- the two were meant for each other. And so, towards the end of Sixth Year, Hagrid advised James to smarten up and not be such a prat towards Lily and everyone else. He even went so far as to go to Dumbledore and suggest that James be made Head Boy.

Surprisingly enough, both James and Dumbledore listened to his suggestions. James and Lily were married two and a half years later.

8. He was never really in love with Olympe Maxime.

Oh, yes, he was infatuated with her- that much was certain. But, deep down, he knew he wasn't in love with her. She may have been a half-giant like him, but they were just too different personality wise to work as a couple.

When did he realize this, you might ask? When he was visited the giants on Dumbledore's orders and met Bolmunt, a giantess on the small side.

9. He always knew that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger would get together someday.

Really, it was hilariously obvious. Yes, they bickered like an old married couple- but that was just it! _They bickered like an old married couple! _When Hagrid saw the two of them holding hands and sending each other long overdue loving looks after the final battle, he couldn't help but run over to them, encase them in a suffocating hug, and start sobbing happy tears.

But those tears were nothing compared to when Hermione asked him to walk her down the aisle in place of her recently deceased father. Then, he bawled like a newborn baby.

10. He wasn't surprised when Bolmunt left him.

Upset, yes; but surprise was probably the last thing he felt. When he had returned to the giants after the War and met with Bolmunt again, he had known that they wouldn't last, no matter how much he cared for her. That was why he didn't marry her- so that she would always have the freedom to leave and be happy if she wanted to, and so she wouldn't feel tied down.

That said, he probably would have been much more upset if Bolmunt hadn't left him their daughter, Maxine, to raise and love.

The life of Rubeus Hagrid was filled with ups and downs, good things and bad things. People saw Hagrid many different ways. Some people hated him for his giant heritage. Some people loved him for his kindness and good heart. Some people really didn't know what on earth to make of him. But _everyone _could agree on at least one thing about Rubeus Hagrid, whether they did so grudgingly or not: he was the World's Biggest Teddy Bear.

Not to mention the World's Most Notorious Child Spoiler.

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**_I'm personally quite proud of this one. So, what do you think? Thanks for all the respond to my last chapter, by the way! I love reviews! I need three at least before I update again!_**

**_By the way, character suggestions are still welcome!_**

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	15. Gregory Goyle

What You Never Knew

**Gregory Goyle: The Proud One**

1. His first memory was of Auror's barging into his home.

According to his mother, he was one year old at the time. And yet, despite this exceptionally young age, Gregory could remember everything perfectly:

Mr. David Goyle scowled as a knock was sounded on the door to the Goyle Manor. Setting Gregory down on his mother's lap, he stood up to open the door, only to be greeted with two wizards and one witch in black cloaks, their wands out.

"Mr. Goyle, is it?" The witch asked.

"Yep. Whatcha want?" David snapped irritably.

"We are Aurors for the Ministry of Magic," the taller wizard said. "As I'm sure you know, He Who Must Not Be Named has recently vanished. We have reason to believe that you willingly served him as one of his Death Eaters."

"Willingly? 'Course not!" David exclaimed. "I was under the Imperius Curse, I was!"

"Can you prove that, Mr. Goyle?" The shorter wizard raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Perhaps we could search your home?"

"That's an invasion of privacy!"

"You're awfully defensive, Mr. Goyle," the witch remarked.

David glared at her and grumbled, "Fine. C'mon in. You won't find nothin'."

The Aurors nodded briefly to him and walked inside the manor. Mrs. Goyle bounced her son on her lap, whispering soothing words in his ear as his eyes welled up with tears, frightened of the strangers. They only searched half of the house before Gregory began wailing like mad. Boiling with rage, David Goyle screamed, "How dare you upset my son! Out! Out!"

Mrs. Goyle glared at the Aurors as they exited Goyle Manor. She did the same each of the times they came back to search their house, until finally, they decided that David Goyle was, indeed, put under the Imperius Curse.

They left before they could hear him whisper, "Idiots," under his breath.

2. He met Draco Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe when he was four years old.

Their fathers had been friends at Hogwarts, and were determined to make sure their children were as well. Gregory, however, disliked Draco from the moment he introduced himself: "I'm Draco Malfoy, and I'm the best boy in the whole wide world. Mummy told me so. You're going to call me Malfoy, and I'll call you Crabbe and Goyle." He didn't have much of an opinion of Crabbe, because he rarely spoke; however, the two shared several commiserating looks at Draco's haughty behavior. Because of this, Gregory decided that Crabbe was an alright bloke, and that Draco could go to hell for all he cared.

No one needed to know this, though.

3. At one point, Gregory was a genius.

It was an undisputed fact: Gregory Goyle was the smartest pureblood of his generation. He used vocabulary far beyond his years, read lengthy books whenever he got the chance, and was remarkably adept at controlling his magic. Girls would bat their thin eyelashes at him; boys would glare at him enviously. Nevertheless, all of the other kids- sometimes with te exception of Draco- would do whatever he said. Gregory would just smirk.

It was at this point in his life when Gregory decided that power was a very, very pleasant thing.

4. His father destroyed his potential.

As a genius, Gregory had an extremely large amount of potential. His father was, as insane as it sounds, envious of it. David Goyle had always been stupid. The fact that, at eight years old, his son was already considerably smarter than him started a raging fire of fury that constantly pumped through his veins every time Gregory read a bigger book, or used to magic to do whatever he wanted, or did the Goyles' taxes.

And so, one day, David Goyle called his bright, promising son to his office when Mrs. Goyle was out shopping, and he beat his son. He beat Gregory for over an hour, with every sort of weapon he could find- his hand, his belt, even a Muggle gun. By the time he was done, Gregory was battered, bruised, and dumber than David had ever been.

Oh, yes, people often asked, "What happened to all of Gregory's intelligence?" David would just reply that his son was in an unfortunate accident, and that he'd rather not talk about it. No one suspected a thing. Not even Gregory. His memory had been wiped clean.

5. Talking with the Sorting Hat was the most embarrassing moment of Gregory's life.

It was quite humiliating to not be as smart as a hat.

**Gregory Goyle, is it? Hmm, yes, I knew your father.**

_Okay._

**Rather stupid, honestly. **

_Okay._

**Your mother wasn't all that bright, either.**

_Okay._

**Merlin, boy, can you say anything besides "Okay", or do I have to keep insulting your family?!**

_No._

**Well, alright, then. Let me see… no, certainly not Ravenclaw, you're not **_**nearly **_**intelligent enough for that. Not a Hufflepuff, no, not at all. Gryffindor… your family is against the House, right?**

_Yes._

**One syllable. Should've guessed.**

_What's a syllable?_

**It's- oh, never mind. I have to Sort you, boy. No, Gryffindor wouldn't work. That leaves only one choice. **"SLYTHERIN!"

_What do I do now?_

**Go and sit down at the green and silver table. But put me back on the stool first.**

_Okay._

**And we're back to "Okay"!**

6. He had a crush on Pansy Parkinson.

Sure, she was a bit pug faced, but he thought it was cute on her. Alas, she preferred Draco- as everyone did. It was always "Draco this" or "Draco that". As long as Gregory kept hanging out with Draco, he would never be noticed. But he couldn't break away from him- as much as he hated to admit it, Gregory was not capable of residing without Draco. He needed the blonde's intelligence, needed to have some orders to follow. Otherwise, he had a feeling he would just waste away.

7. His favorite animal was a Hippogriff.

Hippogriffs were strong, powerful creatures, who did what they wanted, when they wanted. Gregory couldn't help but admire these fierce beasts from the first moment he set eyes on Buckbeak- even though, frankly, he was terrified out of his wits by the half-eagle, half-horse. His fondness for the animal only increased when Buckbeak did something he had never been brave enough to do, and rebelled against Draco.

Crazy as it was, Gregory couldn't help envying hippogriffs.

8. When he was in Sixth Year, he had his first kiss.

It was with Astoria Greengrass, and it was as brief as could be. He had been stuck under the mistletoe around Christmastime, and Astoria had been the only girl kind enough to free him from the magical mistletoe's clutches. She had pecked him quickly on the lips before scampering away to join her friends again, who were nearly rolling on the ground with laughter. Gregory's cheeks had flushed a deep red, and from that point on, he had a terrible infatuation with the younger girl.

Which was why when Draco began dating her in his Seventh Year, he hated him even more than before.

9. Part of him was grateful that Crabbe had died.

Yes, Gregory missed his only true friend terribly. But had Crabbe not died, Gregory would have never had the courage to tell Draco what he did after escaping the Room of Requirement and being abandoned by Potter, Weasley, and Granger.

"Goyle," Draco panted, "We have to get out of here. Follow me."

"No."

Draco whipped around, stunned, and hissed angrily, "_What _did you say?!"

Standing up to his full, tall height, Goyle stated, "I said 'no', _Draco_. I'm done."

"Done with _what_?!"

"I'm not followin' your orders anymore. You can't tell me what to do."

"Oh? And why not, exactly?" Draco paused before adding, "I thought we were friends!"

Gregory glared down at the youngest Malfoy as he spoke, "We were never friends. You know that, Draco. Friends don't order each other around. I'm sick of always doin' what you say. You don't have any power over me."

"But- but-"

"Got a problem with that, _Draco_?" Gregory took a step closer to his former "friend", using his towering height and wide body build as a weapon of fear.

Draco gulped before answering, "Fine. Go on. You aren't worth my time anyways."

Gregory shook his head slowly. "No, Draco. You aren't worth mine." With that, he walked away, and never looked back.

10. He couldn't have been prouder when his son was Sorted in Ravenclaw.

Young Vincent Goyle was exceptionally clever, and deep down, everyone who knew him knew that he was destined for Ravenclaw. Gregory, though, had no idea how his son was so smart- _he _certainly wasn't, and his wife, a beautiful French pureblooded witch, wasn't the brightest bulb in the batch, either. However, they didn't complain when Vincent came in second in all of his subjects year after year (only after Rose Weasley; but that was to be expected, with her being Hermione Granger's daughter).

In fact, the only time Gregory was prouder of his son was when he came home from Hogwarts in First Year and proclaimed that Scorpius Malfoy was "the most stuck-up, snobbish, rude, worthless scum" he had ever met.

Gregory Goyle hated himself. He was never good enough in anything he did, no matter how hard he tried. Not for an instant would he pretend to be proud of anything he did- perhaps excepting when he had finally stood up to Draco Malfoy. Besides that, however, Gregory considered his life rather worthless.

Then, a few years after marrying his wife (who he was sure he didn't deserve), he had his son, who, without a doubt, was the most wonderful boy in the world. To Gregory, at least. And suddenly, he was the proudest man in the world.

* * *

_**I don't know if there are taxes in the Wizarding World or not, but I don't see why there couldn't be. So, what'd you think of my version of Gregory Goyle? Please tell me in a review! **_

**_By the way, on another note: I have another story, "Everyone Was Wrong," which is Sirius Black/OC, and I'd just like to say that this story is not at all related to that one. The only thing in the two stories that are the same is that in my "Sirius Black" chapter of this story, one of my 10 facts about him is that he loved a girl named Sasha Berg, who is my OC in "Everyone Was Wrong". Besides that, though, the two stories are completely unrelated. I just tohught that I better point that out, so as to prevent possible confusion at a later time._**

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	16. Petunia Dursley

What You Never Knew

**Petunia Dursley: The Remorseful One**

1. She met Tobias Snape once.

At the time, she had no clue what was happening, what the older man was insinuating. Looking back on it, however, Petunia couldn't help but shudder in revulsion.

A ten-year-old Petunia Evans merrily strolled home from the neighborhood florist, having bought a bouquet of lilies to give to her younger sister for her eighth birthday. The thought of Lily made Petunia smile; at first, she had hated all the attention Lily received, but now, she couldn't be happier to have her sister to play with. They were nothing less than the best of friends; even if Lily was a bit of an odd child.

Petunia rounded the corner, and checked her watch. She was supposed to be home by dinnertime, and that was in ten minutes! After pursing her lips in thought for a second, Petunia decided to go down a short cut she knew of.

Summoning her courage, she turned into a dark alleyway; if she went through it, she knew that then she'd arrive at her street on the other side. She hated the alleyway; it was much too close to Spinner's End for her liking. Nonetheless, it was the quickest way home.

Suddenly, a man stepped out of the shadows. Petunia gave a little scream and jumped back, and the man spoke in a deep, soothing voice, "Quiet, girl. Do not be afraid."

"Who- Who are you?" Petunia asked, her voice high pitched from fright.

The man stepped into the little light there was in the alleyway, and Petunia took a good look at him. He had a handsome face, with coal black eyes and shaggy black hair (if a bit greasy), and a muscular body. Despite this, though, something about him- maybe his patched, dirty clothing- unsettled Petunia.

"Tobias Snape," the man introduced himself. "And you, young lady?"

Petunia nearly giggled at being called a young lady, but blushed instead. "My mummy told me not to talk to strangers," she proclaimed.

"But we aren't strangers, are we?" Tobias replied. "I just told you my name. We know each other now."

"Well, I suppose you have a point." Petunia bit her lip and finally said, "I'm Petunia Evans."

"Petunia. Lovely name," Tobias started, and smiled, "fit for a lovely girl."

Petunia blushed again. Not many called her lovely- she found that she quite liked it. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Tobias said. "Say… would you like to come to my house?"

Taken aback by this offer, Petunia asked a startled, "What?!"

"I asked if you would like to come to my house," Tobias repeated. "We could have tea, perhaps…"

"Oh," Petunia said. "No, thank you, Mr. Snape. I have to be home for dinner- and I'm late! So, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going now-" She moved to push past Tobias and continue on her way, but he grabbed her arm. She gave a startled shriek.

"Now, now, no need to be frightened," Tobias assured Petunia, his voice still deep, but somehow less soothing. "Come home with me."

"No!" Petunia exclaimed. "I have to go home!" She tried in vain to wrench her arm from his viselike grasp, but he only squeezed her harder.

"You can go home tomorrow morning," Tobias smiled, and this time, it was evil and leering. "But right now, you're coming home with me."

Petunia was extremely scared by now, and vented her fear in a surprisingly hard kick where it counted on Tobias Snape. He yowled and clutched his area, letting go of Petunia. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, not daring to look back. Finally, she reached her house, and flung open the door, dashing inside and locking it behind her.

"Petunia Iris Evans!" Mrs. Evans exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she glared at her daughter, her red hair tied back in a messy bun. "Where _have _you been?!"

For whatever reason, Petunia answered simply, "I lost track of time. I'm sorry, Mum; it won't happen again."

"It better not! We were worried about you, dear!" Mrs. Evans spoke. "Now, come, wash up, and then it's dinnertime."

Petunia did so, and no one could tell that anything was wrong.

2. She never really hated Severus Snape.

Sure, she knew he was poor and he disgusted her. But she didn't _hate _him- she didn't know him well enough to hate him. But from the point he became Lily's best friend, she was always jealous of him. Not only had he stolen Petunia's sister from her, but he- a greasy-haired, bat-like, rude little boy- was a wizard, while Petunia wasn't a witch! It just didn't seem fair. Lily, though- Lily was _perfect_. She _deserved _to be magical. The Snape boy, though? Petunia was much more deserving to have magical powers than _him_.

In her opinion, at least.

3. She was popular.

People generally wouldn't guess that long-necked, vindictive Petunia Evans would be the most popular girl in school, but she was. Perhaps it was because she was so vindictive- she never hesitated to make someone feel bad, because it made her feel so, so good. Powerful. She loved to be in charge. And with the right make-up and clothing, Petunia was pretty enough, too. And so, people would vie for her attention, none of them wanting to be on her bad side for fear of being shunned by the entire student body.

Petunia tried to ignore the glares from that same student body when she turned her back.

4. She was a complete Daddy's Girl.

There was no other way to put it. Lily may have been their mother's favorite, but Petunia knew that she was her father's. Even though Lily was beautiful and kind and sweet and magical and just plain _perfect_, and Petunia just _wasn't_, Petunia was always the one Mr. Evans would buy the bigger presents for, the one who got to sit on his lap first as a child, the one who he would sing to every night up until Petunia graduated from school. In return, he was Petunia's world.

5. When she was sixteen, her whole world turned upside down.

Petunia had had one mole- a single mole- for a few years. It was a severely ugly mole. It was huge, and both black and brown, with a blurred outline. However, it was on the back of Petunia's leg, just below her butt; so, since no one ever saw that part of her, she never paid any mind to it. It wasn't hurting her.

Or so she thought.

Then, at one of her doctor's appointments- just a regular check-up- the doctor saw the mole, and instructed Petunia to go see a dermatologist about it immediately. She did, and the mole was tested. The results were clear, and shocking:

Petunia had skin cancer.

For a year and a half after that, Petunia Dursley wore a wig. She never told anyone besides her parents about her cancer, and if anyone asked why she refused to put on a swim cap or why she had so many doctor's appointments, she would just shrug and change the subject.

6. She met Vernon Dursley when she was eighteen.

It was her graduation, and she was talking to one of her "friends", Marge Dursley, when a large older man strode over.

"Margie!" The man exclaimed, lifting up the rather round girl in a hug. "Congrats, sister!"

"Thanks, Vernon! You can put me down now!" Marge laughed. Vernon obeyed, and Marge turned to face Petunia. "Petunia, this is my older brother, Vernon- he graduated from Smeltings last year. Vernon, this is my friend, Petunia Evans."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vernon," Petunia smiled politely, extending a delicate hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," he assured her, taking her hand gently and placing a light kiss on it, winking at her. Petunia giggled.

They were married a year later.

7. She never truly hated her sister until Friday, October 13, 1979.

Up until that point, Petunia had only been greatly jealous of her sister. In spite of what everyone else may think, she did not, in fact, hate Lily- she didn't hate anyone, except maybe the rude lady who worked at the grocery store and never gave Petunia the right change. But, besides that lady, Petunia hated no one.

She was smiling broadly on that particular Friday. She had just found out that she was pregnant, and was on her way to her father's office- she knew she could wait until he was home from work and she could tell him and her mother together, but she was so excited, she couldn't hold in the good news any longer.

Finally, she arrived at her father's office building. To her surprise, there was nothing short of mass chaos going on. People were screaming, policemen were trying in vain to calm the crowds, a few women were sobbing, and in the sky above the building hung a large, green skull with a snake slithering in and out of it. A part of Petunia knew that symbol from somewhere, but she couldn't remember where for the life of her.

Petunia frowned and walked over to a nearby woman she recognized as Jane Mallory, her father's secretary, who was sobbing uncontrollably. Concerned, she tapped the older woman on the shoulder and asked, "Jane, what happened?"

"Oh, Petunia! I'm so, so sorry!" Jane blubbered, enveloping Petunia in a watery hug. "I- I should have been able to do something, but I didn't even see someone come in, I didn't hear anyone either, oh, I just don't know what happened-"

"What are you talking about?" Petunia asked bewilderedly.

"Y-You don't know?" Jane questioned, tears still streaming down her face. Petunia shook her head. "Petunia- he- I'm so sorry, there wasn't anything I could do-"

"What do you mean? Who's 'he'?" Petunia inquired confusedly. Suddenly, all her senses seemed to halt, and she felt as if she had been plunged in ice cold water. "Jane, where's Dad?"

Jane cried all the harder. "I-I'm so, so sorry, Petunia. I found him in his office… th-there was nothing I could do…"

"Jane, _what happened_?" Petunia felt tears well up in her eyes now, willing what she suspected to be false, for her father to run up and hug her and tell her everything was alright and-

"He's dead, Petunia."

With those three words, Petunia recognized the green symbol- it had been in her sister's magic textbooks that Petunia had secretly flipped through. It was the sign of Lord Voldy-something; the sign that someone had died thanks to him or his Death Eaters.

With those three words, Petunia hated her sister with every fiber of her being.

With those three words, Petunia's world ended.

8. Dudley saved her.

Sometimes, Petunia wondered if she would have committed suicide without Dudley. Her grief for her father's death was so great, as was the anger and fear and guilt that surrounded it, that some days, she wanted nothing more than to die. But the thought of her son kept her going- she had to stay alive, for him. He was her son, and he was her sun- he was the center of her universe, the ball of light that everything orbited around and depended on.

It only fit that he was named after her father, her first sun.

9. She loved Harry.

Not once in her life did she show it, but she loved Harry. Not half as much as she loved her Duddykins, but she did love Harry. He was her nephew, and she knew that he was a good boy, plain as that. He reminded her so much of her father, sometimes it killed her to treat him the way she did.

Still, she treated Harry like he was the worst of the world's filth. Why? Because she knew- Albus Dumbledore's letter had told her so- that one day he would have to leave her to go off and defeat Voldemort and save the world. Petunia wanted it to be as easy for him as possible, no matter how much it tore her up inside.

When you love someone, you have to let them go. And that was exactly what Petunia did.

10. Skin cancer killed her.

Cancer returns to people sometimes, and Petunia was one of those unlucky people. However, by the time her doctor diagnosed it, she was ninety years old, had several grandchildren, and had lived her life to what she felt was her fullest.

There was just one thing she had to do.

And so, Dudley gave her Harry's address, and she wrote him a letter:

_Dear Harry,_

_I want to apologize for how I treated you when you lived with my family. It was wrong of Vernon and I, and you have no idea how much I regret it. It wasn't your fault- it was entirely mine. You were too much like your mother, a truly wonderful person, so unlike myself. I admit to being horrid, and to being jealous of you._

_Dudley tells me that you married the little Weasley girl, and that I have two great-nephews and a great-niece now, and that you're the Head of some department at your Ministry. Congratulations. It sounds like you have a good life; you deserve no less._

_I am going to die soon. I hope that, before I do, you can forgive me for how awful I was. If I could go back and change it, I would._

_Love,_

_Petunia._

_P.S. Thank you for defeating Lord Voldemort, otherwise, I doubt I would have lasted this long._

Vernon mailed the letter for her, and that was that. She didn't live to read Harry's reply.

Petunia Dursley was never the nicest person. Even as a young child, she would steal the other kids' lollipops and throw sand in their faces. However, there was a large variation between Petunia and all the other not-nice people out there: she regretted her actions. She would look back on nearly everything she had done in her life and wonder what in the world was wrong with her. She felt remorseful.

And as she entered a glowing world of white, greeted by her smiling father, she knew that that made all the difference.

* * *

**_I think this might just be my favorite chapter! Just to clarify, Petunia's father was named Dudley, and her first skin cancer- at age sixteen- was cured after a year and a half._**

**_So, what'd you think of my Petunia? Like it? Yes? No? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I still need three before I update again!_**

**_Thanks so much for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	17. Remus Lupin

What You Never Knew

**Remus Lupin: The Man Who Lost**

1. He had a sister.

A twin sister, in fact. Her name was Rowena, because John Lupin was obsessed with the founder of his House. Remus and Rowena were the best of friends, inseparable from the moment they were born.

That is, until Fenrir Greyback showed up. Remus was bitten. But Rowena was gone.

2. For the first six years of his life, he had his own language.

Remus was always an extraordinarily clever child- much like his Ravenclaw father- and, therefore, took delight in creating a language of his very own, leaving his parents to puzzle over what he meant when he said things like "Cho-Cha" (train) and "Lalo"(flower).

Then, he had come face to face with Fenrir Greyback. "Neex!" he had shouted, with no response. "Neex! _Neex_!" He yelled, panicking, running away from the werewolf and towards his home, looking around for Rowena, unable to find her. Finally, with all the breath he had in him, Greyback closing in on him, he screamed, "HELP!" at the top of his lungs.

His parents came rushing out to their son, but it was already too late. From that point on, Remus never spoke his own language again.

3. He was very nearly a Ravenclaw.

In fact, being Sorted into Gryffindor had been the biggest surprise of his life.

_Good afternoon, Mr. Hat. How are you today? _Lupin introduced himself politely, wanting to make the best impression possible.

**Much better, thank you, now that one of you rascals has decided to show me some well deserved manners. **

_My parents told me to be on my best behavior at Hogwarts, starting now._

**Yes, Yes, that sounds like something John Lupin and Eleanor Adderby would say. I Sorted both of them, you know. They were both Ravenclaws, I remember, even though I honestly would have never pictured them as a couple… Anyways, you're quite like both of them. Brainy; studious; clever; really, you're the epitome of a Ravenclaw. But…**

_But what?_

**There's something else in you, something more prominent in your personality than your intelligence: bravery.**

_M-Me? Brave? I'm not brave!_

**Au contraire, Remus Lupin. You have been a werewolf for five years now- dealing with that in itself takes bravery. What takes even more courage than that is dealing with the unfair prejudice towards werewolves. Yes, you are very brave, Mr. Lupin. Perhaps one of the bravest individuals I have ever had the honor to Sort.**

_Really? Wow… thank you, Mr. Hat!_

**You're more than welcome. I hope you have fun in **"GRYFFINDOR!"

4. At first, he hated Sirius.

He had every right to, as the first thing Sirius had said to him was, while eyeing Remus' scars in mild revulsion, "Whoa… what happened to your face?" Then, Remus had gotten to know Sirius, and learned that that was just the type of person he was: blunt and upfront. And so, the two had apologized, shaken hands, and been best friends ever since.

Of course, it did help when Sirius hexed Snape for Remus.

5. The scariest moment of his life was when his friends discovered he was a werewolf.

It was in his Second Year, and, in a panic, he had run into an area that was more familiar to him than it should be: the Forbidden Forest.

He had run and run until he could run no more, and he stopped, panting slightly, sitting down on a nearby rock. Remus put his hands in his hands and, for the first time, let tears drip down his face. It was all over. The friendships he had worked so hard to build; the companionship he had always longed for; everything was gone. And it was all his fault.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice call out, "Reeeemuuuus! We know you're in here!" Remus frowned, but kept silent. What was James doing in the Forest?

"C'mon, Remus! Where are you?" Remus heard Sirius yelled, and he suddenly realized that they were looking for him… but why would they be looking for him.

"Remus! Come out, Remus!" Peter shouted, his voice painfully high pitched and very close. Remus was about to run farther into the Forest when his shorter friend made his way through the bushes and beamed at Remus. "Remus! Guys, I've found him!" No longer than two seconds later, James and Sirius had joined their friends.

"We found you!" James exclaimed ecstatically, enveloping Remus into a huge hug. "We were worried about you!"

"James, you sound like _such _a girl," Sirius laughed. "We were worried about you, though, Remus. Why'd you run off like that?"

Remus stared at the boys like they were all off their rockers. "I- I thought- you found out my secret," Remus spluttered. "And I- well, you see- I thought you lot wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore."

"Are you _crazy_, Remus?" Peter gaped. "You're only a werewolf once a month!"

"The rest of the time, you're the book-obsessed Remus Lupin that we all know and love. Platonically, of course," Sirius grinned.

"I couldn't agree more! Did you _really _think that we're going to let your furry little problem get in the way of our friendship?" James asked.

Remus beamed at his friends. "Thanks, mates. I'm sorry I ran off… I just freaked out."

"No big deal. We found you, so all's good," Sirius assured him. "By the way, we have an announcement to make: We've decided that we're going to become Animagi, to help you with your transformations!"

Remus' jaw dropped, and he arched his eyebrows. "Now it's you guys who are crazy."

6. His first love was Mary Macdonald.

They dated all throughout their Seventh Year- a relationship that was greatly approved by all of their friends. The two bookworms were the perfect match- both were slightly shy, loved to read, and cared more about their friends than anything in the world. Remus fully intended to marry Mary one day.

The ring was in his pocket the day that Mulciber killed her.

7. Even when Remus thought that Sirius betrayed the Potters, he never hated him.

Despite all of the evidence that proved that Sirius was a dirty, filthy traitor, Remus couldn't hate him. He hated what Sirius had done, of course, and tried with all his might to hate Sirius himself. But he couldn't. He would always end up remembering the full moons Sirius spent with him, the times Sirius had made him laugh when he was in his most melancholy moods, the firewhiskey they had illegally drunk down in The Three Broomsticks after curfew. And then, Remus found that he really couldn't hate his old friend, no matter how hard he tried.

8. He hated himself for falling in love with Nymphadora Tonks.

She was young, bright, cheerful, optimistic, beautiful, and so much more. He couldn't help falling in love with her. But she deserved better than him- a poor, unemployed werewolf who was thirteen years her senior. And so, he decided to go by the saying, "If you love someone, you have to let them go", and withdraw from Tonks, for her own good.

Only when they had left the Hospital Wing, allowing the Weasleys some alone time to look after Bill, and Tonks had abruptly thrown herself at him and give him the best bloody kiss of his life- it just felt so _right_- did he realize that sometimes, if you loved someone, you have to let them stay.

9. He received the biggest shock of his life when he went to join Greyback's werewolf clan on Dumbledore's orders.

One minute, he had been walking around, looking at the brutish werewolves with utter, undisguised revulsion; the next, he was standing perfectly still, shock consuming each of his features one by one, as he looked down at one of the werewolves, sitting apart from the rest.

This werewolf was a female- that much was clear. She wore a tattered brown dress that looked to be cut from a thin sack. Her light brown hair was thin, flecked with grey, and an utter mess; her face was almost black from dirt, as was the rest of her skin; scars covered every inch of her body, which was bone thin. But her eyes were alert and sparkling, filled with life, not malice, the exact same shade of blue as Remus' eyes.

Remus knelt down in front of the woman. She heard him and looked up abruptly, her eyes roving over his neat clothes before staring straight into his eyes.

"R-Rowena?" He asked tentatively, his voice hoarse from shock. "Rowena Lupin?"

The woman cocked her head to the side, as if thinking hard. "Rowena… Rowena Lupin…" she breathed, her voice soft and slight cracked. "That name… it's familiar. I remember it, from a long time ago… but why do I remember that name?"

"It's _your _name," Remus told her gently, squeezing her dirty hand tenderly. "You remember that name because _you're_ Rowena Lupin."

Rowena withdrew her hand abruptly. "How do you know that?" she asked suspiciously. "I've never seen you before in my life!"

"Yes, you have," Remus said, fighting back tears. Could she _really _not remember? Sure, it had been thirty years, but still… "Look at me, Rowena. Who do I look like?"

Frowning, her head cocked to the side, Rowena surveyed every detail of Remus' face. "I don't know," she answered finally. "Who do you look like?"

Remus sighed. "Have you ever seen a mirror?" Rowena shook her head, and Remus pulled a hand mirror out of his jacket and held it in front of her face. "This is you, Rowena," he said, pointing to the reflection of the mystified woman. Then he pointed to himself. "And this is me. _Now _do you know who I look like?"

She blinked once. Then twice, as if absorbing everything she had just learned before she croaked out, "Me. You look like… me."

Remus nodded, unable to stop a tear from trickling down his cheek. "I'm Remus, Rowena. Remus Lupin. Your twin brother."

Rowena stared at him in shock, before she gasped. "R-Remmy?" He nodded, smiling at the use of his old nickname, and his sister gasped again before pulling him into a surprisingly strong hug. "Remmy! Oh, Remmy, you came back for me! _You came back for me_!"

A few tears wetted the sack that Rowena called clothing. "I missed you, Rowena," Remus sniffed, squeezing his sister back.

10. He made Harry Teddy's godfather for James' sake.

Remus loved Harry as Harry, of course; but if not for a long ago conversation with James and Sirius, Andromeda would have been dubbed the guardian of his only son.

"Mates," James began, sitting on his bed in the Seventh Year boys' dormitory, "what should I name me and Lily's future child?"

"You and Lily got together a week ago!" Remus pointed out, laughing. "How are you already thinking about baby names?"

"Lily's The One for me. I know she is," James stated matter-of-factly. "I'm going to marry her someday, and we'll eventually have a child. It's never too early to start thinking of names, is it?"

"Well, I personally think it's too early to start naming the poor kid, but I call being godfather!" Sirius exclaimed, sitting up excitedly.

James turned to Remus and nodded his head towards Sirius as he said, "Should I trust him with the care of my future child?"

"Remember what he did with your goldfish over the summer?" Remus asked.

"Hey! I'm a pureblood! It's not my fault that I didn't know that goldfish needed to be kept in a bowl of water!" Sirius defended himself.

"One, Padfoot, I'm a pureblood, so that no excuse," James said. "Two, _everyone _knows that fish need water to survive. Even you."

"Fine, fine, so I was stupid!" Sirius admitted. "But I'm good with little kids! Remember Dora, my cousin Andromeda's daughter? She may have liked Remus better, but I was the one who really took care of her and all that jazz! I didn't mess one thing up!"

"You _were _great with her," Remus spoke thoughtfully.

"True," James conceded. "Okay, Padfoot, you can be the godfather of my future child. While we're talking about godparents amongst ourselves, though, I call being the godfather of Remus' kid!"

"What?!" Remus looked up with alarm. "Why's that?"

"We can all be the godfathers of each others' kids! Sirius will be my kid's godfather, I'll be your kid's godfather, and you'll be Sirius' kid's godfather! Isn't that cool?" James beamed enthusiastically, extremely proud of his idea.

"Actually, that makes sense. And Remus is the most responsible one of us; I'd trust him with my kid…" Sirius mused, before grinning broadly. "I'm in!" He and James turned to Remus expectantly.

"But what about Peter?" Remus inquired, his marginally shorter friend coming to mind.

"Think about it, Remus- what are the chances of him having a kid anyways?" Sirius asked. "No offense to him, of course; he's just not the greatest with the ladies."

"Point taken," Remus sighed. "Oh, I guess I'm in, too."

Harry was the closest Remus had to James. And so, it only made sense that Harry became the godfather. For James.

Remus Lupin was a Man Who Lost, however melancholy that title may be. Thanks to Fenrir Greyback, he lost his sister and what should have been a happy, carefree, normal childhood. Thanks to Mulciber, he lost his first love. Thanks to Peter Pettigrew, one of his best friends, he lost his other best friends. Thanks to Dolohov, he lost his sister, and then himself as he fought to avenge her. He lost any chance he may have had of knowing his wonderful newborn son when he died.

But up in Heaven, with his wife on one his side, Rowena on the other, looking down at his sweet Teddy, he knew that he had died for all the right reasons, and that he hadn't really lost them at all. He knew that he lived on in their hearts, and they lived on in his. And that was all that mattered.

_**I am soooooooooooooooo sorry for not updating in so long! I haven't been able to think of anything good. *Gets hit in the face with a rotten tomato.* Yeah, I deserved that. I know. You guys are so awesome for waiting so long; I promise, I'll try my best to update quicker in the future! **_

_**Thanks for reading! Please review!**_

**_-Joelle8_**


	18. Scorpius Malfoy

What You Never Knew

**Scorpius Malfoy: The Man With No Regrets**

1. He was raised in the Greengrass Manor.

Yes, it was untraditional; yes, both sets of his grandparents disapproved. But, for whatever reason, his parents had decided that they preferred his mother's home to his father's.

Only when he visited his paternal grandparents in the Malfoy Manor for the first time, when he was four years old, did he understand. A desolate air hung around the massive house, and the walls of the drawing room were stained with a curious red dye that Astoria quickly pulled Scorpius away from when he tried to investigate what it was.

2. Until he was ten years old, Scorpius had no idea what role his family had played in the war.

Of course, he knew about the war- everyone did. It was impossible for any witch or wizard not to know about the Second Wizarding War, and the Dark Lord- as Scorpius' parents always called him- who almost killed all the Muggles and Muggleborns. But only when Scorpius turned ten years old did his family- his mother, father, and his father's parents- finally explain just how they had been Death Eaters, how instrumental they had been in almost causing the fall of the Light.

Scorpius refused to talk to his family for a full month after that.

3. His father was his favorite person in the world.

Even though his mother had always been a bit kinder, a bit more affectionate, and all in all more like Scorpius himself, he had always felt a special bond with his father. Maybe it was the secret smiles they would share when Astoria blabbered on and on and _on _about a new scarf she bought, or when Draco taught him how to ride a broomstick and caught him before he fell into the Manor's pond. Scorpius wasn't sure. But for whatever reason, the sight of his father- standing tall, proud, cold, but eyes always full of warmth and mirth when he looked at his son- always sent a burst of happiness inside him.

Maybe this was why Scorpius eventually forgave his family for being Death Eaters. He couldn't stand to see his beloved father cry.

4. He first saw the Weasley/Potter family not in a magazine like every other wizard, but just before he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

On Platform 9 ¾, Scorpius' father had looked over at a large group of redheads, with maybe three brunettes thrown in, and told him, "Those are the Weasleys and the Potters. You've heard of them, yes?"

"Of course," Scorpius had responded smoothly, though inwardly, he was astounded that such a normal-seeming family was probably the most famous of all time- and that it included the infamous Chosen One. Scorpius assumed he was the tall man with black hair.

Draco cleared his throat, regaining his son's attention. "You see the tall man with the red hair, with bushy-haired brunette next to him, and the man with the black hair?" Scorpius nodded. "That's Ronald Weasley, Hermione Gran- er, Weasley, now, I suppose- and Harry Potter. We didn't get on well in school-"

Astoria snorted by her husband's side. "'Didn't get on'? Draco, you were enemies! I was two years below you, and even I knew that!"

"True," Draco sighed. "Anyways, you see the girl with the bushy red hair between Weasley- rather, Ronald- and Gra- I mean, Weasley- I mean, Hermione? That's their daughter, Rose or something. She's entering First Year as well. While I realize this request may be a tad irrational, son, I want you to try to do what I could not. Try to-"

"Beat Rose's test scores?" Scorpius guessed, grinning. He knew his father far too well.

"Well, yes," Draco smirked. "As to how you guessed that, I don't know-"

"You're always complaining about how Granger was smarter than you, Draco," Astoria cut in. "Our son isn't deaf."

"Yes, yes. You have a point. Scorpius, just- do your best, alright? Try your hardest to get better grades than her. You don't _have _to be enemies." The look in Draco's eyes, however, disagreed, and clearly stated, _Be her enemy. Beat her. Be her enemy. Show Weasley who's boss._

"Got it, Father," Scorpius replied. "Loud and clear."

Draco clapped his son on the shoulder proudly. "That's my son. Have a good year at Hogwarts, Scorpius. We'll see you at Christmas."

5. He had to beg the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin.

Even though both of his parents had assured Scorpius that it didn't matter what House he was in, he knew they were both secretly hoping for Slytherin, their former House. And so, Scorpius was determined to please his parents, because they worked so hard to please him.

It was harder, in this case, than he thought it would be.

"Malfoy, Scorpius!" Deputy Headmaster, Head of Gryffindor House, and Herbology Professor, Neville Longbottom, had read off the scroll loudly. Immediately, rumors erupted throughout the Great Hall, the name very recognizable. More than a few people glared fiercely at the scrawny blond boy as he scurried up to the stool and plopped down, positively shaking with fear.

**Goodness, what did you **_**do**_**? I haven't heard such a cold welcome since… well… I don't know when I heard such a cold welcome! **

_Let's just say that my family isn't the most well-liked family out there, _Scorpius grumbled in his head, completely calm. He had known that the hat would speak to him, after all; his father had told him everything. _The name of 'Malfoy' is no longer as respectable as it was at one time. And, hello to you, too, Hat._

**Well, you certainly **_**speak **_**like a Malfoy, I can tell you that much. All prim and proper. Prideful, as well, with a little more than a dash of cheek.**

_…I think I'll take that as a compliment._

**And there's that cheek again! Yes, you Malfoys are all very much the same… you are, however, different, even if you have the same basic Malfoy attitude.**

_Oh?_

**'Oh'. Only something a Malfoy would say nowadays… anyways, as I was saying, you are different from other Malfoys in your past. Less… what's the word? Ah, yes: malicious. You aren't willing to be quite so evil to get what you want.**

_My ancestors are not evil!_

**Of course they aren't. You go on thinking that. Now, let me see… Ravenclaw would be a good fit for you.**

_WHAT?! But- I- you- NO! I'm a MALFOY, for Merlin's sake! I'm supposed to be in SLYTHERIN!_

**My, my, a Malfoy losing their poise! Yet another thing that makes you different from your ancestors! Tell me, boy, what makes you so eager to be in Slytherin? Surely you've heard of their not-so-great reputation.**

_My whole family's been in Slytherin, and no matter what Father and Mother say, I know they really want me to be in Slytherin, too. Just because not all Slytherins are nice, doesn't mean that I can't be. That's the way I see it, at least. And not all Slytherins have to be malicious, either! Just because they "use any means to achieve their ends" doesn't mean they have to be malicious all the time!_

**…A logical argument like that only makes me want to put you in Ravenclaw even more.**

_But- But- don't I have _any _say in this matter? Any choice at all as to what House I'll be Sorted in? It's the rest of my life, not yours! And I'd like to be in Slytherin!_

**Again, very valid points. Well, boy, as much as I want to put you in Ravenclaw, I fear that you **_**would **_**fit perfectly fine in Slytherin- even though you're perfect for Ravenclaw- and your choice does indeed effect how I Sort you. Now, are you **_**sure **_**that you want to be a Slytherin?**

_Yes, thank you._

**Positive?**

_Yes._

**Absolutely, positively sure?**

_YES. _

**Well, alright, then. I hope you don't regret your decision to be in **"SLYTHERIN!"

6. He took his father's words to heart until Seventh Year.

For his first six- six and a half, more accurately- years at Hogwarts, Scorpius hated Rose Weasley with a burning passion. Not the other members of her family so much, though he didn't necessarily like them; just Rose. He never found himself able to beat her in an assignment, not a _single _one, something that always made Scorpius punch his pillow angrily when his roommates were asleep.

In Seventh Year, everything changed. He was declared Head Boy, and she was named Head Girl. Headmaster Flitwick, being more than a bit batty in Scorpius' opinion, had decided to make the Head students share a dormitory all to themselves. So, not only did Scorpius and Rose have to work together more, they were forced to live together. Including sharing a bathroom. One thing led to another, and eventually, they found themselves snogging desperately on the couch of their common room.

They never looked back.

7. The most terrifying moment of his life was when his family and the Wealseys met to discuss his and Rose's wedding details.

It was the first time either family and met in decades, for one thing. Second, the Weasleys and the Malfoys had been enemies for centuries- not just since Draco's time. Lastly, it wasn't just Ron and Hermione to represent Rose's side of the family- it was _all _the Weasleys. Every. Last. One. From old Arthur Weasley to baby Dora Lupin. Needless to say, it was all incredibly tense, and Scorpius and Rose were forced to confiscate everyone's wands.

A full twelve hours later, there was finally silence. No, they hadn't finished organizing the wedding details. They had all just fallen asleep from arguing so much.

8. He didn't hesitate in naming his daughter for a second.

Rose was allowed to pick the baby's whole name. After all, she was the one going through the most work- it was only fair that she got the honor of naming their child. And so, Draco was left to silently curse the world and everything in it when his first grandchild was named Jean Elizabeth Malfoy, after Rose's Muggle grandparents.

9. Scorpius nearly cried when his children were Sorted.

It wasn't that he disliked how his children were Sorted- the exact opposite, in fact. He couldn't have been more pleased. It was just the _irony _of it all… first, strawberry-blond Jean Elizabeth, named after two Muggles, was Sorted into Ravenclaw (which, admittedly, wasn't all that strange, besides the fact that she was a Malfoy who wasn't a Slytherin). Then, platinum blond Narcissa Astoria- named after two Slytherin women, both of whom were from very Slytherin families- was made a Gryffindor (something that Rose never stopped gloating about, by the way). To top it all off, Arthur Ronald- fiery red hair, named after two _Weasleys_, and you can't say "Weasley" without saying "Gryffindor"- sat on the stool for less than a second before being Sorted into Slytherin.

Even Ron had to admit the humor in this.

10. He only cried- not shed a single tear, but full-out sobbed- five times in his life.

The first time, his grandmother, Narcissa, died. She was the first person he had known to die, and besides that, she was always unfailingly kind to him and spoiled him utterly rotten. Scorpius was twelve at the time.

The second and third times were at his daughters' weddings. He would have cried at Arthur's, probably, but his son had taken him aside beforehand and said, "Pa, please don't cry. Even if it's happy tears. Leave that to Mum this time." So, Scorpius had done as Arthur requested, and held a blubbering Rose during the whole ceremony.

The fourth time was at his parents' joint funeral. Draco and Astoria had finally decided to trust the Muggle world and ride in a car, and the taxi had been hit by a drunk driver. Scorpius was crying the whole time, and not a single person tried to stop him.

The fifth time was at the will reading of Ronald Weasley. Scorpius was left no material item; instead, the lawyer read off of the sheet, "I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, do give to Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy my acceptance and love. You've earned it, son."

He couldn't have asked for anything more.

Scorpius was always an optimistic person. He believed that life had a road set for you already, but there were several forks in that road, and you had to decide which way to turn. Decisions, he would always tell people, dictated how your life played out. And every time he looked back on his life, he found he couldn't say, "I wish I had done that instead", or "I wish I had never done that." He was a Man with No Regrets. True, he made as many mistakes as a normal man; but as an old man, sitting on the couch with Rose by his side, when he looked out at his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren and in-laws, he found that he couldn't regret a single thing that happened in his life.

Because then, he may not have had the life he had. And what a wonderful life it was.

_**Fluffy chapter! I actually really like it. I hope I got everyone in character; I love writing Draco, even if it's just for a little bit. Anyways, what'd you think? Like it? Hate it? What about this quick update? Please review!!!**_

**_-Joelle8_**


	19. Cho Chang

What You Never Knew

**Cho Chang: The Guilty One**

1. She wasn't really Chinese.

She was Indonesian, actually. The only reason her last name was Chang was because she was adopted by a pureblood British family whose last name was Chang. Mr. and Mrs. Chang had been vacationing in Indonesia when they had seen a five-year-old Cho playing in the front yard of an orphanage they were passing by. Or, maybe, instead of, "playing", "Making flowers float in the air" would be more accurate. They adopted her a week later.

2. She blames herself for her parents' deaths.

After all, were her mother not pregnant with her in the first place, she wouldn't have died in childbirth. And it was four-year-old Asoka's (as Cho was then called) fault that her father had gotten distracted while he was driving her to day care. If she hadn't started crying for her bottle, he wouldn't have turned around to give it to her and would have seen the oncoming truck.

3. On her eleventh birthday, all she felt was guilt.

Yes, she was happy about receiving her much anticipated Hogwarts letter. But her sister (in every respect but blood), Cherie, was thirteen years old and had never gotten a Hogwarts letter, despite being a pureblood. Though Cherie had tried her best not to show it, Cho knew how upset her sister was. And she always hated herself for that.

4. She first met Cedric on her second day of Fourth Year, on her way to Charms class.

She had accidentally overslept, and, as a result, had missed breakfast and not had time to brush her hair, or even perform a Straightening Charm on it. Running faster than she ever had before in her life, she wasn't looking at where she was going, and had accidentally bumped into a tall figure, sending her and her books sprawling.

"Oh, blast it all," she muttered to herself irritably. "Now I'm going to be late to class!"

"Well, we can't have that, now, can we?" A pale hand quickly gathered Cho's books into a neat stack and lifted them up. Cho herself stood up and looked up at the boy who had helped her…

…And sucked in a gasp.

Cedric Diggory. Of all the people she had to make a fool of herself in front of- on a bad hair day, too!- it just had to be the heartthrob of Hogwarts. With his wavy brown hair and deep grey eyes, it was hard for Cho to keep her poise.

"Th-Thanks," she stammered, blushing furiously as Cedric handed her books to her. A tingle shot up her arm when their hands brushed against each other.

"No problem," Cedric assured her, his smile dazzling. "Would you like me to escort you to class? I'm a Prefect; I could cover for you, if you want, so Professor Flitwick won't mark you tardy."

"Really? Wow, thank you so much!" Cho exclaimed, grinning broadly and hoping her voice didn't sound too much like a squeal.

The two set off walking to Charms, and Cho looked anywhere but at Cedric and the numerous people staring at them and pointing and whispering. In other words, she just looked at the ground awkwardly. "So," Cedric began, and she looked up at him, "what's your name?"

"Cho Chang," she told him. "Ravenclaw, Fourth Year."

"Nice to meet you, Cho," Cedric said. "I'm-"

"Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff, Fifth Year," she finished for him, and then blushed a deep red. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off." _Stupid Cho. Stupid, stupid, stupid, _she scolded herself.

"No harm done," Cedric shrugged nonchalantly. "So, do you like the House for the brainy?"

Cho giggled. "Yes, very much, thanks. It's very easy to get some peace and quiet when everyone's reading all the time."

Cedric's laugh was loud, hearty, and just plain beautiful. "Sometimes, I wish Hufflepuff was more like that. I often find myself wanting to just escape- but it seems like everywhere I go, people just have to talk to me!"

"Of course they do!" Cho replied. "You're _Cedric Diggory_."

"And _you're _Cho Chang," he responded, eye twinkling.

They arrived at the Charms classroom, and Cedric knocked on the door before opening it. "Excuse me? Professor Flitwick?" he began politely.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Diggory!" the tiny Head of Ravenclaw squeaked. "Do come in! You don't have Charms until third period, though!"

"I know, Sir. I just thought I'd escort Miss Chang here to class," he explained, gesturing to a still-blushing Cho. "Please excuse her lateness. It's entirely my fault."

"Of course, Mr. Diggory!" Flitwick beamed. "Yes, do come in, Miss Chang!"

Cho moved to go to the seat that Marietta saved for her, but Cedric grabbed her arm, and she turned back around. "See you around, Cho," he winked at her, and then went on his way.

Still blushing as red as a ripe tomato, she turned back around and walked to her seat.

5. Cedric was her first love.

She loved him from the moment he helped her pick up her books in Fourth Year, and she loved him even after he died. Which was why she felt so guilty when she began going out with Harry. And yet… that was part of why she started liking Harry in the first place. He was brave, and kind, and handsome; just like Cedric. The two shared so many qualities that sometimes, when Cho and Harry kissed, she could imagine that it was Cedric she was kissing instead.

But Harry deserved better, and she knew this. So she pretended that she thought Harry had feelings for Hermione (even though he obviously didn't), and broke it off with him.

6. She first met Samuel at Cedric's funeral.

Cedric's mother was a Muggleborn; as a result, Samuel, the son of Cedric's aunt, was a Muggle. When Cho met him, she was fifteen, and he was seventeen.

"You're Cho, right? Cedric's girlfriend?" Cho looked up at the sound of someone addressing her, tears still streaming down her face, as she glanced over at the tall boy with wavy brown hair who had spoken to her. He wasn't even looking at her, instead staring desolately at Cedric's coffin, much like she had been doing. Her heart softened a bit when she saw a tear roll down his cheek.

"Yes," she replied shortly.

"Cedric told me about you," the boy began slowly. "I hope you know that he was utterly smitten with you. Every time he wrote to me, there was at least a paragraph about how beautiful and wonderful and perfect you were. Then there was another paragraph about how he didn't think he was nearly good enough for you, and how he constantly wondered how he had gotten so lucky."

Cho sniffed, wiping her freshly damp eyes. "That sounds like something he would say… he was always so sweet. He used to tell me all of that, too… and I'd always tell him that I was the one who wasn't good enough for him."

"You miss him, don't you?"

"I loved him," Cho answered simply. "I still do, in fact. I miss him more than words can say."

"That's poetic of you," the boy nodded, and then stuck out his hand. "By the way, I'm Samuel Nichols. You can call me Sam." Cho turned to face the boy, fully prepared to introduce herself formally and shake his hand, and gasped.

He had Cedric's eyes.

7. She was never really all that fond of Marietta.

Yes, they were friends, but not very close. However, when Cedric died, and Cho was reduced to an utter wreck, Marietta was one of few of Cho's friend that stayed by her side and helped her gradually get over her grief and heartbreak. So, when Marietta betrayed Dumbledore's Army, even though Cho knew what her friend had done was wrong, she stuck by her friend's side all the way.

8. Michael Corner was like a younger brother to her.

Sure, they dated for a bit- a much shorter period of time than most of Hogwarts thought- but after about a month, they both had to admit that no matter how attractive the other was, there was no spark when they kissed. And so, they broke up- or rather, he broke up with her (the only boy to ever do so) on good terms. Even when Cho graduated, the two talked as much as they could. She was the sister he never had, and he was the brother she never had.

So when Cho found his dead body after the Battle of Hogwarts, she cried like no one was watching.

9. She first knew that she loved Samuel three years after the Battle of Hogwarts.

They had met up more than a few times before that, yes, but they all those times, Cho would look at him and think, "He looks so much like Cedric," or "He has Cedric's eyes," or "Sweetness must run in the family; Cedric was really sweet, too."

Then, one day, she met up with him for coffee and thought to herself, "Sam has such beautiful eyes." For once, they weren't Cedric's eyes; they were Samuel's.

They were married two years later, on that same day.

10. Her daughter was her pride and joy.

Cho had had several miscarriages before she finally gave birth to her beautiful, healthy daughter, Cherie Michaela, when she was thirty-six years old. Cherie was Cho and Samuel's only child, but they never minded. She had Cho's long black hair and Samuel's gorgeous grey eyes, and she was as beautiful as a girl could get; not to mention smarter and kinder than Cho had ever been.

In truth, Cherie was a better version of Cho. And Cho loved her for it.

Cho Chang had a good life, all in all. But throughout her whole life, guilt was an all-too-common emotion. She felt guilty about her parents' death. She felt guilty about being a witch, when her adopted sister wasn't. She felt guilty about stringing Harry along, and while doing that, she felt guilty for "cheating" on Cedric. She even felt a little guilty for siding with Marietta when she knew the latter was wrong. She felt guilty when she married Sam, because he looked so much like Cedric, who she had always thought that she would marry. She felt guilty about Cherie being an only child, because if not for her miscarriages, she would have had many more children to love, even though she didn't mind only being the mother of one.

Cho Chang- later Cho Nichols- was The Guilty One. Even if she wasn't guilty of any of the things she felt guilty about.

**_I don't know about you, but I actually really like this one! Thanks for reading, PLEASE review!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	20. Alastor MadEye Moody

_**WARNING: This chapter is rated T for slight language and an inappropriate implication.**_

What You Never Knew

**Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody: The Sane One**

1. As a child, his favorite game was Hopscotch.

The other children in the neighborhood teased him about it- especially the other boys- but Alastor loved Hopscotch. Perhaps it was because of the fact that he had five older sisters. But looking back on it in later years, he never regretted playing Hopscotch; he became an expert, better than all of his sisters, and the game taught him impeccable aim, gave him a strong throwing arm, and brought out the natural agility, quickness, and balance in him.

Nevertheless, whenever someone asked him, "How do you move so fast?" he just replied that it took a lot of hard work and practice. (It wasn't a total lie.)

2. He idolized his father.

Not that he knew his father. Infestus Moody was the best Auror the Ministry of Magic had ever had. Any mission he was sent on, he succeeded. Dark wizards worldwide would hear his name and cringe in fear, because they all knew that, against him, they would lose. Infestus always won. Always.

And when he went on a mission while Alastor was still in his mother's womb, he still did exactly what the Ministry had sent him to do. He was just killed while doing it.

3. His third-eldest sister, Annalisa, taught him the saying, "Constant vigilance!"

It all started when Alastor was nine years old and his mother remarried. His new step-father was a tall, wide man who looked as though he had never smiled in his life. He was about as far from loving and caring as a person could get. But he was rich, and Alastor's mother didn't make much money from working at Flourish and Blotts.

At first, Alastor vowed to try to at least make friends with his new stepfather. The man was, after all, going to be a part of his life; so why not try to make the best of it? So he always passed Jeff the peas at dinnertime with a smile, tried to make him laugh with awful jokes, and even started conversations with him about Quidditch.

Then, something weird happened. Alastor had woken up in the middle of the night to his stomach rumbling. He was on his way to the kitchen when he saw something very strange. Jeff crept out of the room he shared with Alastor's mother, silent as a mouse, and walked in the direction of Alastor's sisters' rooms. Curious, Alastor followed him, taking care to be as stealthy as possible.

Finally, Jeff stopped in front of the door of Annalisa's bedroom. The sixteen-year-old was Alastor's oldest sister who still lived at home; Amelia and Alyssa had already graduated from Hogwarts and moved out. Before Alastor's eyes, Jeff opened Annalisa's door and snuck in, closing it behind him.

So, of course, Alastor had to eavesdrop.

With his ear up against the door, he heard Annalisa give a little shriek that was quickly stifled. "Shut up, you stupid girl," Jeff ordered in his deep, gravelly voice.

"What are you doing here?" Annalisa hissed back, and it was all too easy to tell that she was terrified. Alastor pressed his ear harder against the door.

"I told you to be quiet!" Then, there was the resounding sound of a slap, followed by total silence. "You will do what I say," Jeff continued, "and you won't tell anyone about this. Got it?"

"You aren't going to- Oh, no, you can't-" Annalisa whimpered, and Alastor stumbled back in shock. Never before had he heard his older sister, so strong and independent, sound so frightened and helpless before.

"I can, and I will, and nobody's going to find out about this," Jeff replied harshly.

"But-"

Suddenly, Annalisa was cut off, and her bed creaked. Alastor, horrified, ran off to his bedroom, having completely forgotten about his midnight snack.

The next morning, he woke up before everyone else and went to Annalisa's room. His sister was wide awake, sitting up, trembling, staring forward vacantly. Bruises covered her body, and her lips were swollen and red.

"Anna…" Alastor began, and her head abruptly whipped around to face him. "What did Jeff _do _to you?"

Annalisa was silent for a moment. Then, she motioned for Alastor to sit next to her on the bed, which he did immediately. His sister wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close to her, burying her face in his auburn hair, her tears dripping down like the trickles of a waterfall.

"Don't worry your little head about it, Al," Annalisa said after a few minutes. "Just- do something for me, okay? Three things, actually."

"Okay."

"First: stay away from Jeff. I know that you want to befriend him, but… it's safer for you to stay away from him. Understand?"

"Yes, Anna, but why-"

"Second," Annalisa interrupted him, "practice constant vigilance."

Alastor frowned. "What's constant vigilance?"

"It means always being alert, and always looking out for stuff. Never letting your guard down." Annalisa squeezed her brother's hand. "Do you promise to do that for me?"

"Of course."

"Good, good. Third… don't tell anyone about this."

Alastor looked her straight in the eye. "Anna, he hurt you-"

"And he'll hurt you if you tell anyone," Annalisa responded. "Please, Al- for me."

After a few moments, Alastor nodded. "Alright."

4. He loved Hogwarts.

In the two years since Alastor had made that awful discovery about Jeff, things at his home had been getting worse and worse. So turning eleven and going off to school was a welcome experience for him. When he was Sorted into Gryffindor and made more friends than he had ever thought possible, that only increased his love for Hogwarts. Magic fascinated him, and his study habits could often be compared to that of a Ravenclaw.

But the best thing about Hogwarts was that Annalisa never woke up with bruises.

5. He wanted to be a Healer.

He didn't want to die during a mission, leaving his family alone, like his father had. A Healer was, in his mind, the most respectable position a wizard could have besides being an Auror; besides, then he could learn to cure bruises, a skill which none of the Hogwarts teachers would teach him without first asking suspiciously, "Why do you want to know?"

But then, his eldest sister, Amelia, her husband, and her unborn child were murdered by a Dark wizard when he was in Seventh Year. As soon as he heard, he vowed to become a better Auror than even his father had been.

6. He was a murderer.

Yes, killing Dark wizards was a part of his job description; but he became a murderer even before he started his Auror training.

Ever since Annalisa moved out, Alicia started waking up with bruises. Then, once Alicia moved out, it was Amanda who woke up with bruises. All of them had refused to tell Alastor what was going on.

It happened when, just like every morning when Amanda woke up with bruises, eighteen-year-old Alastor asked her, "What did Jeff do to you?"

This time, though, Amanda's answer was different from her usual dismissal of the matter. The nineteen-year-old stared at Alastor for a long while, before finally saying, "You're a man now, Al; a smart man at that… surely you know already."

Alastor frowned, thinking hard. What would Jeff do to his sister in the middle of the night that would cause her to wake up with bruises and swollen lips? An option came to Alastor's mind that fit all the criteria, but it couldn't be; even Jeff couldn't be that vile. Nevertheless, Alastor had to ask. "Mandy… did Jeff… y'know…" he trailed off, not feeling comfortable saying it. His sister knew exactly what he meant though and, to his horror, nodded.

"Yes," she breathed, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. "Yes, he did."

For a few moments, all Alastor could do was stand there and gape at his sister. Then, anger washed over every fiber of his being like a flood. His eyes narrowed and he let out a low growl before he pulled his wand out of his pocket and dashed out of his sister's bedroom, ignoring her pleads telling him to stop, to not do it.

He ran down to the kitchen and his eyes rested solely on Jeff, not even noticing that his mother was in the room, and screamed at him, "_YOU SON OF A BITCH!"_

"Al!" His mother gasped, appalled. "Watch your language! What did Jeff do to you?"

"To _me_? Why don't you ask _Anna_ what he did to _her_? Or Ali? Or Mandy?" Alastor shot back, his voice cutting like a knife. Jeff's eyes instantly flashed, piercing his stepson, who shouted back, "You don't deserve to walk on this earth, you sick, perverted bas-"

"Alastor! _What _is going _on_?" Alastor's mother yelled, setting down the plate she was washing and putting her hand on her hip.

"Ask _him _that!" Alastor cried back, pointing at Jeff with his wand in hand. "Ask him why he went into Anna's room in the middle of the night and she woke up with bruises and swollen lips! And then, when Anna moved, Ali! And now Mandy! Ask him why, Mum!"

Alastor's mother looked absolutely horrified, as if she wished that she didn't know what her son was implying. Slowly, she turned to her husband. "Jeff- is this _true_?"

"Of course not," Jeff answered swiftly. "Obviously, Alastor's head is playing games with him-"

"Don't you _dare _lie to her!" Alastor shrieked. "Don't believe him, Mum! Go see for yourself if you don't believe me! Go look at Mandy!"

"No!" Jeff exclaimed hurriedly. "Really, Abigail, there's no need-"

"Mum, don't listen to him! Go see for yourself!"

"No need," Mandy's voice said from the doorway. Alastor's mother instantly clapped her hand over her mouth in shock. Mandy stood there in just her underwear, displaying her black and blue body for all to see. She lifted up her hair and showed them the hickeys on her neck as well. "Al is telling the truth, Mum."

Abigail Moody turned to face her husband, but her eyes were filled with revulsion and anger. "I can't believe that you would do something this- this- _disgusting_! I can't _believe _I actually _married _you- and I didn't find out about this until now!"

"Please, Abigail- it's not what it looks like-"

"Yes it is! It's _exactly _what it looks like!" Alastor cut him off. "Just admit it already! You _lost_, Jeff!"

For a few moments, there was total silence. Then, Jeff spoke, while looking at Amanda hungrily, pure lust in his eyes. "It was worth it."

And then, before anyone knew what had happened, the green light had shot from Alastor's wand and hit Jeff straight in the chest, and he fell, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Later, at Alastor's trial, Amanda showed the judge her bruises, and both Alicia and Annalisa gave testimonies. Alastor's spell was instantly marked off as defense, and he was given a round of applause from the jury for saving his sisters.

7. He never fell in love.

Sure, he loved people. His mother and all five of his sisters, for example. But, even though he dated, he never found a girl that he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. Maybe it was because he had grown up around so many women that he was just sick of them. Maybe because he would probably make an awful father (in his opinion, anyways). He never felt much of a loss, to be honest.

8. During the First Wizarding War, something changed him.

That "something" was the murder of his entire family. His family was one of many that Voldemort decided he would pick off completely- after all, the Moody's were as big a lot of blood traitors as the McKinnons. Alastor was the only one that they were never able to capture; he was too skilled for them.

At his mother's funeral, and then Lyssa's, followed by Anna's and Ali's and Mandy's and countless other relatives, as Alastor gave a eulogy for each and every one of them, the tears streaming down his face weren't just sadness. They were guilt. Because he was the only one left, and he didn't deserve it.

9. Nymphadora Tonks was the daughter he never had.

At first, she was an exceedingly annoying Auror-in-training that he took under his wing after being badgered by Ted nonstop. Then, as he got to know her, he learned that her heart was as big as the sun, that she could make anyone- including him- laugh, that she was an extremely warm and comforting person who lit up a room. Eventually, he found that the mere sight of her gladdened him; and when she fought with an agility and quickness that took Alastor ages to teach her, his heart swelled up with pride.

So, when Remus Lupin started showing interest in her, Alastor had to give him The Talk. The look of terror on the werewolf's face afterwards did the Auror's heart good to see.

10. There was only one thing that he regretted about his death.

It wasn't that he had died in battle, defending Harry- and the fate of the Wizarding World- with his last breath. It was that he had never told any of his friends that he actually did care about them, despite his gruff manners towards them most of the time.

Not to mention that he even get to see Teddy.

Alastor Moody was many things. He was a dangerously skilled wizard; he was a loving sibling and son; he was a strict teacher; and he had a tendency to get angry and serious over even the littlest of things. But despite what everyone thought, he was not crazy. One of his eyes was; but not his mind. He always had a good reason for doing what he did. And so, Alastor Moody was The Sane One, because throughout everything, he always kept his head. Even if he didn't always act like it.

_**First of all, I deeply apologise if any of you were offended by the language or implication in this chapter. In my mind, it takes a lot to make a person as hard-shelled and gruff and serious as Alastor. If all goes as planned, NO OTHER CHAPTERS WILL BE RATED T. So, please, don't stop reading my story because of this one!**_

**_Second... what'd you think? Please tell me in a review!_**

**_Third, I'm so sorry for not updating in so long! I couldn't think of anything good to write!_**

**_Okay, I think that's it! As usual, thanks for reading, and PLEASE review!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	21. Gilderoy Lockhart

_**Note: There is a VERY slight mention of homosexuality in number 5 of this chapter.**_

What You Never Knew

**Gilderoy Lockhart: The Hufflepuff at Heart**

1. He had a twin brother.

An identical twin, to be exact. His name was Garrison. It was always Garrison and Gilderor, or Gilderoy and Garrison, or Gar and Gil (as they liked to call each other). They were two peas in a pod, and got together wonderfully, going so far as wearing the same outfits without their mother having to prod them (so was so proud).

Despite looking like carbon copies of each other, however, the two boys had every different personalities. To be honest, they were complete opposites. Where one excelled, the other was awful. For instance, in Muggle primary school, Gilderoy was the undisputed smartest pupil in the whole school, never mind his class, while Garrison struggled to even pass. Later, in Hogwarts, Gilderoy was known as the class screw-up, while all the teachers gushed over Garrison's "natural ability". Personality-wise, Gilderoy had all the social skills; Garrison had little to none.

2. He wasn't quite sure what his blood status was.

His father was a regular Muggle, but his mother was a Muggleborn witch. Because his mother was a witch, Gilderoy knew that, logically, he could not be Muggleborn. But he certainly couldn't be a half-blood, because both sides of his family were Muggles!

This was his argument in Hogwarts when the Slytherins bullied him for being a "mudblood". Oddly enough, it didn't help.

3. The Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Hufflepuff.

Strangely enough, had Gilderoy been Sorted into Hufflepuff, it wouldn't have been because he didn't fit in any of the other Houses, like so many other people; no, it was because of his argument to get into Ravenclaw.

"Lockhart, Garrison!"

The small, good looking eleven-year-old trembled nervously on his way up to the stool. Down in the line, his brother flashed him a thumbs up that Garrison barely returned before the Hat fell down over his eyes.

An instant later, Ravenclaw had another Housemate.

"Lockhart, Gilderoy!"

Significantly more confident than his twin, Gilderoy strode up to the stool when he was called, flashing the watching students a grin. He kept that broad smile on his face as the Sorting Hat was plopped onto his blond hair and slid down over his eyes.

**You're the twin of Garrison, I take it? **The Hat asked him.

_You can talk? But- But how?_

**Didn't you listen to my song?**

_…Maybe._

**Oh, Godric. Well, I'm not repeating it. Ask one of your Housemates. Speaking of your Housemates, I wonder who they'll be…**

_Ravenclaw._

**You want to be a Ravenclaw, eh? Why's that?**

_My brother, Garrison, is there. I want to be with him._

**Why?**

_…Are you seriously asking me why I want to be Sorted into the same House as my brother, my _identical twin, _my best friend?_

**I see you're a loyal one, then. Very loyal to your brother.**

_I'd do anything for him._

**You know, that's very… Hufflepuff of you. Loyalty is a Hufflepuff trait, after all…**

_What? No. You aren't seriously considering putting me into _Hufflepuff_, are you?_

**Why shouldn't I? You're loyal, hard working, have a good heart… face it, kid, you're the epitome of a Hufflepuff!**

_But I want to be in Ravenclaw! I _need _to be in Ravenclaw! With my brother! He's so shy, he needs me-_

**He could learn to manage by himself.**

_HE STILL NEEDS ME!_

**Whoa, calm down! Easy there! If it means so much to you, then I guess I have no choice but to put you in **"RAVENCLAW!"

_Oh, thank god. I'm coming, Gar!_

4. In Hogwarts, he grew to resent his brother.

It wasn't that Garrison was more popular than Gilderoy. The exact opposite, in fact; Gilderoy was, without a doubt, the most popular person in school, not to mention the most sought-after wizard. Sure, Garrison got on well enough with his partners in classes, and there were a handful of girls who constantly swooned about how "mysterious" and "thoughtful" he was; but all in all, it was Gilderoy who was constantly surrounded by hoards of admirers, of people begging to be his friend.

But Garrison was a magical prodigy, while Gilderoy, quite frankly, sucked. And when he spent hours on end struggling to complete essays or master spells that his brother had finished in fifteen minutes, he just couldn't help feeling that little green monster swell up inside of him.

5. When he was eighteen years old, he almost committed suicide.

His spunky, T-shit-wearing mother had a sudden heart attack, to start. Then, only three months later, his father started dating again. This wasn't the big problem, though.

The problem was that Gilderoy's father was dating a _man_.

It wasn't that Gilderoy was a homophobic. Far from, in fact; he had some homosexual friends, and he always had fun talking with them, not having to pretend that he didn't care about clothing (when, in truth, he had inherited his father's impeccable fashion sense). It was that now, Gilderoy didn't know what the truth was and what a lie was anymore.

Had his father been happy, all those times when the Lockhart family had eaten dinner together, always saying grace first? Were his smiles genuine during their yearly trips to the summer carnival? What _really _happened when he went to public men's restrooms?

Gilderoy didn't know what to believe. And, yes, maybe he was being dramatic, but he just couldn't take it on top of his mother dying, on top of not being accepted into the Healer Academy, on top of getting a Poor on each and every one of his N.E.W.T.'s besides Charms and History of Magic, which he got a Dreadful and a Troll in, respectively. Every day, as the darkness loomed over him more and more, those kitchen knives looked more and more inviting…

But he always stopped himself. Because as upset as Gilderoy was, Garrison had always been the Momma's Boy.

6. He fell in love once.

Her name was Nellie. The name was still music to his lips. In his opinion, "Nellie Lockhart" was the most perfect name in the world, and would be perfect for the most perfect girl in the world. And she did eventually become Nellie Lockhart, and at her wedding, Gilderoy had tears in his eyes, because the sorrow and heartbreak was too much for him to handle, and overwhelmed whatever happiness he may have otherwise felt for his beaming twin.

He managed, somehow, to make it through the wedding, loyally standing by his brother's side as the best man. By some miracle, he was able to crack a smile, so that the audience thought that his tears were happy ones. The bartender was convinced that, yes, Gilderoy _did _usually drink that much.

7. One of his happiest moments in life was also the one he regretted the most.

It had happened before… well, before Gilderoy knew what had happened. He had gone to his brother's flat, hoping to talk for a bit like they regularly did. But Garrison had gone to work early, Nellie told him. Gilderoy was invited in for awhile, though, and took his sister-in-law up on the offer.

Nellie's mother, it turned out, had just been diagnosed with cancer. Gilderoy had sympathetically offered his condolences, and had then casually suggested that Nellie have a drink or two, to ease her mind. Nellie had seen nothing wrong with this, and had indeed had two drinks. And then two more. And two more after that, and after that, until Garrison came home from work to find his wife and his brother naked and tangled up together in the bed sheets.

Needless to say, Nellie was forgiven immediately, since she was drunk as could be. Gilderoy, however, was not so lucky: he was completely sober, and he knew that it would be no use lying to the one person who had always been able to read his mind. And so, Gilderoy told Garrison everything: how he had always been in love with Nellie, how he had never intended for _the incident _to happen, how he was so, so sorry.

He was promptly screamed at and thrown out. The two brothers never saw each other again. That night, for the first time in his life, Gilderoy- a grown man- cried.

8. During his career as an author, Gilderoy had one critic.

Even if he hadn't really done everything he wrote about, he was, without a doubt, an exceptionally gifted writer. No one could deny it. He was simply good with words.

Knowing this, he was startled when he was reading the reviews of his latest book, Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, and one of them said the following:

_I have tried and tested each and every method listed in this book, and not a single one of them has been successful. My personal belief is that Gilderoy Lockhart's entire works are complete rubbish, and he's just looking for fame and money. This is the last book I would recommend to anyone for anything- besides comedy, of course._

_-Geoffrey P. Lovett_

And, despite the awful review, Gilderoy couldn't help but smile. His brother knew him so well.

9. Harry Potter was not his favorite student.

Even though Harry was famous like Lockhart, the man always had a fondness for Fred and George Weasley, even if he didn't show it quite as much, simply because they reminded him of himself and Garrison, back when life was easy, neither of them had met Nellie, and they were everything to each other.

In short, they were better versions of the two Lockhart twins, and Gilderoy had every intention to help them remain that way. So he gave the both of them the exact same grade on every assignment, regardless of the actual work quality, and only laughed when they dyed all of his underwear pink.

10. In all his time at St. Mungo's, he got two visits.

The first was from a group of rather bewildered looking teenagers; a girl with brown, bushy hair; a boy with green eyes, messy black hair, and an unusual lightning bolt- shaped scar; a tall boy with red hair and freckles; and a younger girl who was clearly his sister. Gilderoy could never remember any of their names. The second visit he received was in the Christmastime of 2010.

"Gilderoy!" Healer Maggie, a woman on the older side who couldn't help her maternal feelings towards her patients, strode towards the man's bed excitedly. "You have a visitor!"

Gilderoy sat up confusedly. "Do I really?" he asked, and then his face broke out into a huge grin. "Oh, wonderful, wonder! Do let them in, please, Maggie! I wonder if they would like an autograph- I bet they would, I'll get out my quill-"

"There's no need for that." Gilderoy halted in his tracks as a man walked towards him, wearing an unreadable expression.

"Maggie," the ex-Professor began, not taking his eyes off of the new man, "did you make a clone of me?"

The man's face suddenly fell. "He doesn't remember me?" He asked Maggie, his voice suddenly quieter and a bit hoarse.

"He doesn't remember anyone or anything," Maggie patted the man's shoulder sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lockhart."

"Lockhart, you say?" Gilderoy's ears perked up. "Why, I- I believe that's my name, too! Yes, I think my name is Gilderoy Lockhart, in fact! You say that you're a Lockhart, too? Are we related?"

"Yes," the man smiled faintly. "Very closely related, in fact."

"That explains why you look like me then!" Gilderoy exclaimed jovially. "Tell me, dear relative of mine, what's your name?"

"Garrison," the man replied. "Garrison Lockhart."

"Garrison Lockhart…" Gilderoy muttered to himself, looking thoughtful. "It has a nice ring to it. It sounds a bit familiar."

"I should think it would be," Garrison chuckled.

Gilderoy took a few steps closer to Garrison, surveying the other man's face closely. For a split second, he looked like he had an epiphany. Then, his face drooped. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I remember your name, I really do, but… nothing else."

"It's alright. I understand," Garrison sighed. "Are you sure… are you sure that you can't try a bit harder though, Gil?"

Gilderoy froze. His face screwed up, and he was obviously working hard to remember something. And then, it all went away. He shook his head sadly, biting his lip in frustration- why couldn't he remember? What was he trying to remember? "Can't you just tell me who you are, Garrison?" he pleaded. "You're obviously trying to make me figure something out-"

"That's because I know you _can _figure it out," Garrison interrupted him. "Think hard, and _look at me_. Really, it doesn't take much to figure it out."

Gilderoy frowned, peering closely at his visitor. All he knew was that they were related, and that they were identical-

Identical. Related. _Identical twins_.

Suddenly, one memory- one single memory- flooded all through him. He and a boy who looked exactly like him boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time, holding each others' hands for support, sharing a secretive smile. "Ready, Gar?" Gilderoy asked the other boy.

And then he knew.

"Gar?" he choked out, his eyes watering. Garrison nodded and, without waiting another moment, the brothers flung their arms around each other, tears running down both their faces. "I'm so sorry, Gar," Gilderoy sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay, Gil," Gar said. "I'm sorry, too; for not coming sooner. I've forgiven you for everything- it's all behind us now."

The two brothers spent the next six hours talking about their lives. Gilderoy, it turned out, was a nephew of two children: Katie, nine years old, and Jeremy, twelve. Nellie sounded like "a perfectly lovely woman," in Gilderoy's opinion. Finally, Maggie was forced to shoo Garrison out, because it was bedtime, but the man promised to return sometime soon.

And return he did. He was the one person that Gilderoy could always remember.

Gilderoy Lockhart was many things. He was an actor and a liar; he was an incompetent fool; he was clever and manipulative, as well as an undeniably brilliant write; he was the five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. But, throughout his whole life, he always carried out the three traits that the Sorting Hat had most praised him for: loyalty, hard working, and a good heart.

He was always a Hufflepuff at heart.

_**I am sooooooooo sorry that it's been so long since I've updated! I've had a terrible disease: WRITER'S BLOCK. So, I hope you all will forgive my lousy updating!**_

**_On another note, what'd you think? To all of you who are against homosexuality, I'm sorry if you found this chapter at all offensive. I just thought that it would help build Gilderoy's character a bit. Also, he has a great fashion sense for a man, and, honestly, I think that it would be very amusing if he got that from his gay father. That might just be me, but..._**

**_Anyways, please review!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	22. Poppy Pomfrey

What You Never Knew

**Poppy Pomfrey: The Better Person**

1. Her father died when she was four years old.

She still remembered him, though. In particular, his smile, and the way his eyes danced when he laughed (which was often). A jovial man, he would always picked Poppy up and swing her around in circles, singing random tunes with random words at random times. He was, all in all, a random man.

So it fit that, randomly, he died in a fishing accident.

2. She hated her mother.

Her mother was a cold, calculating woman who showed little to no emotion besides anger and disappointment. A true Slytherin, through and through. Sometimes, Poppy wondered how her wonderful Hufflepuff father ever fell in love with such an icy woman. Elizabeth Lestrange (she kept her maiden name when she got married) refused to do anything anyone else suggested- you had to convince her that it was _her _idea if you wanted something done. Otherwise, she would just scoff at you and say, "Of course not! What a ridiculous idea!" Even if that idea was something as simple as, "Can I go play with my dolls now?"

3. For the first ten years of her life, Poppy was obsessed with dolls.

It wasn't that she lacked maturity (her mother's personal favorite). On the contrary, Poppy was one of the most mature and responsible people of her age. It was that you could do anything you wanted with dolls; you could make their lives either bad, or wonderful. Poppy always chose to make the dolls' lives good. There would be her, as the little girl; her father, alive and well; and her mother, but with a new and improved attitude. With her dolls, Poppy lived a happier life than she had before.

4. She taught herself how to Heal.

When she was in Third Year, her mother remarried- this time, to a Slytherin who even Poppy had to admit was a better match for her. Poppy thought that, now that her mother was happier, she would be nicer.

The opposite happened.

Poppy's new stepfather encouraged his wife to act out, to display her emotions more. He told her to let everything out- particularly her anger.

That was how Poppy found herself, one night, called to her mother's study out of the blue.

"You called, Mother?" Poppy asked, timidly pushing open the door.

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded, not facing her daughter. "Come in. Close the door behind you."

Poppy did as she was told and then just stood there awkwardly. "What do you want, Mother?" she asked hesitantly.

Her mother seemed off in her own little world- like she hadn't even heard Poppy. "Your father and I went to Hogwarts together," she began softly. "At that time, I was a pureblood… well respected by all. He was a pureblood as well, but he was a blood traitor," she spat the words, "and my kind… we weren't supposed to associate with him. But then, in Seventh Year, Professor Slughorn assigned us to be Potions Partners. We developed a sort of… friendship." She laughed hollowly. "That 'friendship', as I'm sure you can imagine, quickly grew into something more, and after graduating from Hogwarts, I ran away with him.

"We didn't get married, though. Neither of us were ready for that kind of commitment. We were just having a bit of fun; in fact, I hadn't even been disowned yet by that point. But then… then _you _came along." At this, Elizabeth spun around in her chair and glared at the stunned Poppy. "You were a mistake, Poppy. Because of you, your father and I got married when we were eighteen, and I was forced to grow up faster than any woman should. Not to mention that I was disowned and labeled a disgrace to the Lestrange family name, all thanks to _you_."

Her eyes narrowed even more at her daughter as she lifted her wand. "And now, you'll have to pay. _Crucio!_"

Pain like nothing Poppy had ever felt hit her like a bullet, and she screamed, writhing on the ground in agony. She screamed for her mother to stop, that she was sorry, that she wished she was dead. Finally, her mother stopped. Slowly, shaking, Poppy opened her eyes. She couldn't stand up yet.

"You will come here at this same time tomorrow," her mother ordered primly, only the flashing look in her eye betraying her inner feelings. "Go to your room."

Poppy didn't move.

"I _said_, go. To. Your. Room."

Poppy nodded and forced herself to stand up. She looked back once at her mother, tears in her eyes, and then she limped to her bedroom and looked up Healing spells.

5. She never told anyone about her first love.

After entering Hogwarts and being Sorted into Hufflepuff, Poppy found that her life improved dramatically. She made fantastic friends, had her thirst for knowledge quenched, and got to go ten months a year without her dreaded mother.

And then, _he _came along in her Fifth Year.

At the time, he was sixteen years old- a year older than her- and in Slytherin. He was extremely popular, as well as handsome, as well as intelligent… not to mention that once, just once, she could've sworn that he winked at her.

In later years, she convinced herself that she must have imagined it. Because there was no way she would have ever received any sort of flirtatious action from Tom Riddle.

6. She "grew a pair" (as her best friend Janie would've put it) when she was nineteen years old.

At that point, Poppy had graduated Hogwarts and had just decided what to do with her life: she was going to become a Healer. Hogwarts' nurse, if she had any say in it, because she loved Hogwarts so much, and because she thought kids were the most wonderful things in the world. Not to mention that Madame Morda, the current nurse, was planning on retiring soon.

The day that she planned on moving to a little flat that she would share with Janie, she first knocked on the door to her mother's study, suitcases rolling behind her.

"Come in," Elizabeth said, her voice unusually pleased. Poppy assumed that it was because of her own departure.

"Hello, Mother," Poppy greeted the woman.

"Hello, Poppy," her mother replied. "Aren't you moving today? Shouldn't you be going by now?"

"I just wanted to speak to you first," Poppy said, standing up straight and proud. "I wanted to say… thank you."

"For what?" Elizabeth asked, raising one dark eyebrow.

"For being the world's worst mother," Poppy replied, keeping her straight face. "I wouldn't have had to learn Healing spells if you hadn't beaten me like the rhymes-with-witch you are."

Elizabeth's face instantly contorted into one of absolute rage. "Why, you insolent little-" She raised her wand, but before she could do anything, Poppy sent it flying to the other side of the room, straight into her waiting grip.

"Goodbye, Mother," she said politely. "I'll send your wand back tomorrow."

Then she grabbed her suitcase, and, with a cheeky smile, she was gone.

7. She could see Thestrals.

And oh, how she wished she couldn't. It wasn't that Thestrals were particularly ugly or anything- far from, in her opinion. She found them exotically beautiful. But she wished, oh how she wished, that she hadn't been there to see Janie die in St. Mungo's. She never regretted being there for her best friend after that Auror mission went so terribly wrong; but she would never forget how the mirth and strength and light left Janie's brown eyes in a single second, not even giving Poppy time to say goodbye.

8. She had a daughter.

She wasn't Poppy's daughter by birth- anyone with eyes could tell that. While Poppy had brown hair and brown eyes, her daughter, Amelia, had blond hair and green eyes. The two met when Amelia began attending Hogwarts; upon first laying eyes on the eleven-year-old, the first thing Poppy noticed were sloppily hidden bruises on her arms and chest. A week later, after observing the girl more, Poppy saw that she was a bit withdrawn, and noticed that whenever someone asked where she got the bruises from, she would stammer nervously, "O-Oh, I, um, f-f-fell down the- the stairs."

Finally, unable to take it any longer, Poppy called the girl up to her office in the Hospital Wing one day, and the two sat down with a cup of tea.

"How are you, Miss Brown?" Poppy asked, taking a sip of her tea, watching the fidgeting student carefully.

"Fine, thanks," Amelia replied, "and you?"

"Very well, thank you for asking." Poppy set down her cup and looked Amelia straight in the eye. "Miss Brown, I've noticed that you have some rather nasty bruises. Would you like to tell me how you got them?"

Amelia's eyes widened noticeably. "W-W-Well, y-you see, I-I'm such a klutz, I'm al-always falling d-down stairs-"

"Forgive me for interrupting you, Amelia," Poppy cut in, "but I do know when a student is lying to me, you know. I'm trying to help you; I have a feeling that I know what those bruises are from, and if I'm right, then I want to help you."

"Wh-What do you think my br-bruises are from?"

Poppy took a breath. "Don't be offended by this, Amelia, please, but… it looks to me like your parents beat you."

Amelia froze, her mouth opening and closing in a manner akin to that of a fish. "Y-You… h-how did you…"

"How did I know?" Poppy supplied, smiling kindly. Amelia nodded. The matron pulled down her shirt collar very slightly to reveal a particularly gruesome scar of hers; a lasting reminder of what her mother did. "As a child, my mother used the Cruiciatus Curse on me. I know how to recognize child abuse when I see it. Please, Amelia, tell me what happened. I want to help you."

After a moment, Amelia told her whole story. About how her parents never wanted her, and how she could never do anything right in their eyes, and how she didn't have any family members to help her. Finally, she took a breath, staring straight into Madam Pomfrey's eyes, and begged, "Please, get me out of there."

And that was exactly what Poppy did. After going to the Ministry of Magic, she legally adopted Amelia, and raised her as her own.

9. More than anything, she wanted to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts.

She wanted the end of Voldemort, sure, but it was more than that. She wanted to fight not necessarily against the Death Eaters, but against all those snotty purebloods like her mother. All of those awful, prejudiced people deserved to die; that was the opinion that she stuck with throughout her entire life. She wanted to fight and get revenge against her miserable excuse for a mother.

And, eventually, she was able to sneak away, and she happened to come upon Rodolphus Lestrange- not only a snotty pureblood and a Death Eater, but a direct family member of her _dear _mother. He never stood a chance.

10. The proudest day of her life was when she gave her job as Hogwarts nurse to Amelia.

Amelia had not only decided to follow in her mother's footsteps, but was also the best candidate for the job. She was exceptionally bright, talented when it came to magic, and was adored by all of the students.

Poppy had managed to raise her adoptive daughter well, despite having no training on how to do so from her own mother. That was what she was most proud of.

Poppy Pomfrey, throughout her whole life, was the Better Person. She always took the high road, and did what was right- even if she wanted to do something very, very different. She forgave her father for dying, even though it was so much easier to just be mad at him for leaving her all alone; she didn't use an Unforgivable Curse on her mother, though she so wanted to; she managed to raise her daughter as well as any normal mother would.

She had actually wanted to do that, though.

_**Hmm... I actually quite like this chapter. What do you think? Please review!**_

**_-Joelle8_**


	23. Dolores Umbridge

What You Never Knew

**Dolores Umbridge: The Woman Who Conquered**

1. For the first ten years of her life, she was popular.

In her little town in northern England, Dolores was indisputably the most popular person for miles. Her parents treasured her; her teachers marveled at her intelligence and spotless behavior; the other kids practically worshipped her because of how nice she was (of course, they didn't know the main reason she was so nice was to make people love her). Those were the best years of her life; everyone liked her, and she got whatever she wanted, no matter what it was. She was more influential than even some adults, and all of the townspeople looked up to her.

The power felt good.

2. Her parents were devout Christians.

The Umbridge family attended church not only every Sunday, but every day, if only for half an hour. They were well known amongst the congregation, and the minister frequently made calls to their house to thank them for giving sizable donations to the church. Mr. and Mrs. Umbridge firmly believed in magic- they believed that magic was miraculous when it happened by God, but that any other magic was caused by the Devil. _Especially _witchcraft.

So you could imagine their shock when they found out that their oh-so-perfect daughter was a witch.

3. She was in Ravenclaw.

Her Sorting was a confusing one; she clearly fit into one house, asked to be put into another, and ended up being put it in a completely different one.

"Umbridge, Dolores!"

A small, slightly round girl pranced up to the stool, her brown hair bouncing, her brown eyes shining. She sat down daintily, flashing a smile to her fellow students so they wouldn't see how incredibly nervous she was when the Sorting Hat was tucked over her head.

**Hello, Dolores. I don't believe I know your parents.**

_Of course you don't. They're non-magical. Muggles, as you folk would call them._

**Ah, yes. That explains why I didn't recognize your last name. Now, on to business: What house shall I Sort you into? Let's see… you're extremely ambitious, and you have a rather abnormal thirst for power for someone so young… you know how to successfully manipulate people, and you do this often… Honestly, aside from the fact that you're a Muggleborn, you are a perfect fit for Slytherin! If you were able to conceal your blood status, then I have no doubt that you would thrive in that House-**

_I want to be in Hufflepuff._

**Oh? Why is that?**

_Well, clearly, they're the innocent House. They're all jolly and stupid. No one would suspect anything out of the ordinary from them; people automatically trust them._

**And why does that matter to you?**

_I plan on having power when I grow up, Hat. No one trusts Slytherins enough to give them a reasonable amount of power; therefore, I refuse to be in Slytherin. Were I in Hufflepuff, then nobody would think twice about putting me in power._

**You're reasoning is worthy of a Slytherin. Oh, it has been a very, very long time since I've had a student who possesses all the qualities that Salazar prized most…**

_Wonderful. Fantastic. I care so much. Now hurry up and Sort me into Hufflepuff._

**I'm afraid I can't do that. You have no Hufflepuff qualities; none whatsoever. However, you are fairly intelligent; you care about your schoolwork, and you're quite witty, not to mention clever enough to fool people into thinking that lies are the truth. You could be a Ravenclaw- even though you'd do much better in Slytherin.**

_Put me in Ravenclaw._

**As you wish. I suppose I do have to take your choice into account… **"RAVENCLAW!"

4. Her parents disowned her when she was in Second Year.

Dolores had made the mistake of coming home for summer vacation and telling her parents all about how wonderful Hogwarts was, and how much delightful magic she had learned, and how it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Her parents had responded by screaming at her that she was "blasphemous," and "one of Satan's minions," and "a worthless, God-defying piece of trash who they couldn't even look at without being sick."

The neighbors thought that Dolores had moved in with a sickly aunt somewhere in Ireland, in order to help nurse her back to help. They never suspected that Mr. and Mrs. Umbridge had dropped their daughter off at a Muggle orphanage a few towns away, never to see their daughter again.

At that moment, when Dolores watched her parents drive away from her without a second glance, she decided that the Slytherins were right, and Muggles were evil pieces of filth that deserved to die. And, if it was the last thing she did, she would make that happen.

5. The Selwyn family adopted Dolores.

Through the course of her first year at Hogwarts, Dolores had befriended Louisa Selwyn, a Slytherin, and the two frequently sent letters to each other- not that their parents knew, since Dolores was a Muggleborn, and the Selwyn family was strictly pureblood. When Dolores' parents abandoned her, she sent a letter to Louisa from the orphanage, telling her all about her predicament.

Louisa, being the conniving Slytherin she was, instantly came up with a plan. A few days after Dolores had sent the letter, Louisa's family arrived at the Muggle orphanage, ready to adopt the Ravenclaw. At first, Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn had been extremely reluctant to adopt a Muggleborn, but once they heard that Dolores hated Muggles just as much as they did, if not more, and was quite intelligent for her age, they realized what an asset she could become for their cause.

And so they adopted Dolores, and she was, put quite simply, reborn.

6. She loved Arthur Weasley.

He was one of the few boys who were actually nice to her, consistently. He was nice to everyone, in fact. Who cared if he was a blood traitor? Who cared if he wasn't the smartest, or the handsomest, or the richest? In Dolores' eyes, he was smart and funny and kind and _perfect_.

But he was in love with Molly Prewett, and had been since Second Year, and showed no sign of growing out of it anytime. Dolores was many things, but she was not a boyfriend-stealer. Besides, Molly made Arthur happy.

That almost made seeing their wedding announcement in the _Daily Prophet _bearable. Almost.

7. It was Remus Lupin's fault that she hated half-breeds.

Her adopted father, Xavier Selwyn, was a Death Eater, just like the men in the Selwyn family had been for years. Dolores, since she didn't have the Dark Mark herself, rarely went to any battles. Sometimes, though, she ended up there by chance.

Dolores had been doing shopping for her brand-new apartment when she heard them. The screams. The wails of terror that could only precede the arrival of Death Eaters. Smirking, Dolores did what any intelligent woman would do and pushed through the crowds of witches and wizards to a seat by the window, calmly sitting down and sipping a cup of tea that someone had left sitting there, eagerly waiting to watch the action.

Sometimes, she knew, the best way to hide was to be in plain sight.

Her eyes drifted from Death Eater to Death Eater until, finally, she found the figure she was looking for. She could recognize the wand anywhere: unusually long, a shade of brown that bordered on red, intricate designs carved up it. She smiled, leaning back in her chair to watch Xavier fight off a tall young man- fresh out of Hogwarts, she would say- with short brown hair and sparkling blue eyes.

As Dolores watched, coolly sipping her tea, she noted that the boy was a skilled duelist. Uncommonly so, in fact. He showed prestigious skill that she had only seen a handful of times before. Her gaze shifted to Xavier again, only to see his wand a blur, moving back and forth like a whip, sending curses while blocking some at the same time. _He actually looks like he's struggling, _she thought with a frown.

And then, it happened.

The young man sent a curse that sent Xavier flying backwards, slamming into a pile of bricks that, before the attack, was being used to build a new shop. To Dolores' horror, he slumped forward, his body limp, his wand falling out of his grasp.

Quickly casting a glamour charm over herself so she wouldn't be recognized, Dolores darted out of the shop and to her adopted father's side, putting a hand on his chest.

It wasn't moving.

She checked his pulse with two fingers, and it was completely still.

"No," she murmured, her now-blue eyes wide. "No. Xavier! Xavier, _wake up_! It's me, Dolores! _Wake up_!"

Nothing.

A single sob making its way out of her throat, Dolores kissing Xavier's forehead, stood up, and Apparated home. There, she looked up all the information she could about the young man who had killed Xavier Selwyn, the man who had been a father to her for half her life. She found out that the young man was Remus Lupin, an eighteen-years-old Hogwarts graduate. And a werewolf.

As soon as she found that out, she knew what to do. Using her Ministry position, she created laws to make life as difficult as possible for Remus Lupin and other half-breeds. It was the least she could do to avenge her adopted father.

8. Above all of her other students while she taught at Hogwarts, she _hated_ Hermione Granger.

It wasn't because Hermione was such good friends with Harry Potter, the boy who was causing her Minister so much trouble, and Ron Weasley, the son of Dolores' once-love. It wasn't because Hermione was basically the reason that she got captured by centaurs. No, it was because Hermione was a better version of what Dolores could have been.

Had Dolores lived up to her full potential as a student, then she knew she could have been exactly like Hermione Granger. Abnormally bright; loyal; well-liked; and so much more.

The only difference was that Hermione was brave enough to let herself shine. Dolores wasn't.

9. She worshipped Voldemort.

He had given her the opportunity she had always wanted: the opportunity to get revenge on Muggles. Sure, she was prosecuting Muggleborns, not Muggles themselves, but it was basically the same thing. The fear on all of the Muggleborns' faces had delighted Dolores; _she _had been in absolute power, for the first time, over hundreds of people. The job was what she had always dreamed of: power against Muggles.

And Voldemort had given that to her, even if it wasn't for nearly a long enough time. For that, she would always worship him.

10. She escaped Azkaban.

It was very sudden: one day, Dolores was sitting in her cell, glaring at the guards who passed her cell. The next, the guard walked by her cell, only to find it empty. There was no sign of any damage; Dolores had simply vanished.

Outside, a toad swam in the waters surrounding the wizard prison, to the opposite shore.

Dolores Umbridge was hated by most, respected by some, and trusted by perhaps a handful of people. Nevertheless, she had succeeded in all of her goals in life: She had gotten a position of power, avenged Xavier Selwyn, achieved revenge against Muggles, and even escaped Azkaban.

Her methods may not have been liked, legal, or approved of. But Dolores Umbridge was, indisputably, The Woman Who Conquered.

_**To be honest, I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter. I don't think it's the best one I've ever written, though I do like the ideas themselves. But I'd gone too long without an update, so I decided to do what I could. So, what do you think? Please review! Even if you hated it!**_

**_-Joelle8_**


	24. Bartemius Crouch, Jr

What You Never Knew

**Bartemius Crouch, Jr.: The One Who Tried**

1. He was an accident.

Well, not quite. His father had been quite set against having a child, he knew- Barty Crouch Sr. believed that having to raise a child would greatly hinder any progress he was to make regarding his career. But Alyssa Crouch wanted a child more than anything in the world. A former Hufflepuff, she was an affectionate woman, who wanted nothing more than a son or daughter to raise and love.

So, one night, Alyssa lied to her husband one night, claiming that she had used protection when she really hadn't. Luck must have been on her side, because she discovered shortly afterwards that she was pregnant. She was the one who chose her son's name; she thought that, maybe if her husband's unwanted son was named after him, he would be more disposed to liking, even loving the child.

She was wrong.

2. As a child, he idolized his father.

Barty Crouch Sr. showed little more regard for his son than he did for Winky, their loyal House Elf. And yet, Barty Jr. thought that his father was the most amazing man in the world. He was cold and calculating, ruthlessly efficient; a true Slytherin (even if he had been in Ravenclaw). He succeeded at anything he set his mind to, whether it involved career or personal relations. Not to mention he got his son whatever he wanted, no matter the cost (aside from affection, of course).

Barty Jr. wanted to be just like him when he grew up.

The young boy did everything he could to appease to his father. He asked his father to teach him how to fly; Barty Sr. hired him a personal Quidditch instructor. He began studying magic early, mastering spells far beyond his years; as a reward, he got a "Don't bother me; I'm too busy to deal with something so trivial right now. Go study."

Eventually, young Barty gave up trying to win his father's love, and settled for basking in the affection his mother displayed for him.

By the time he went off to Hogwarts, all he felt for his father was resentment. Barty Jr. liked it that way; he didn't get hurt as much anymore.

3. He wanted to be in Slytherin.

Barty Jr. had read a fair bit about the Dark Warts in a book that he was sure his father ought not to have, and found them fascinating; he knew that the house of the snakes was known for their affiliation with Dark magic. Not to mention that he was a pureblood and firmly believed in the prejudice against lesser beings like House Elves.

But the main reason he wanted to be in Slytherin? So that he could see the look on his oh-so-perfect father's face when he told him.

(It was just as priceless as Barty Jr. had imagined.)

4. He was best friends with Frank Longbottom.

Their friendship was an unlikely one: the two were complete opposites. While Barty was a Slytherin, Frank was in Gryffindor. Though Frank detested the Dark Arts with every fiber of his being, Barty itched to try some of it for himself. Barty's father ignored him almost completely, while Mr. Longbottom all but bowed at his son's feet. On a simpler scale, Frank excelled in Herbology and was one of Professor McGonagall's worst Transfiguration pupils in her entire history of teaching; in contrast, Barty was abysmal when it came to Herbology, but got straight O's in Transfiguration. Barty was the star Slytherin Chaser; broomsticks seemed to have something against Frank. Also, Frank was the oldest boy in the Year; Barty was the youngest. Barty was Hogwarts' playboy, but Frank had dated one girl- Alice Prewett- since Second Year.

This was, however, a case where opposites attracted- platonically, of course. Ever since first bumping into each other- literally- in First Year, the two were inseperable.

And everyone knew it.

5. He first met Bellatrix Lestrange when he was eighteen years old and had just graduated from Hogwarts.

He was at a bar, having a few drinks- by himself, since Frank was at home, taking care of a sick baby Neville- when a curvaceous woman with wild black curls, dark eyes, and a form-fitting dress slid into the seat next to him.

"Hello, stranger," she greeted him with a wink, the voice coming from her ruby red lips practically a purr. "What's your name?"

The young man gulped. "B-Barty Crouch. Junior."

"Interesting," the woman murmured, a conniving glint in her eyes as she leaned closer to Barty, so close that he could smell her intoxicating perfume. "Slytherin, I've heard? A pureblood?"

Barty could only nod, dumbstruck.

"Best mates with Frank Longbottom, I've heard? The Auror?"

"Yes, ma'am," Barty answered, his brown eyes wide. _Why is this woman paying any attention to me? _He thought, more than a bit shocked.

The woman laughed, loud and long, with a bit of a mad tint to it. "Oh, don't you 'ma'am' me," she said. "Call me…" she scooted her seat closer to Barty so that she was practically up against him. "…Bella."

"Bella," Barty echoed. The name fit her; in some language, he didn't remember which, 'bella' meant 'beautiful', and this woman was that, if nothing else.

"Yes," the woman smirked, "Bella. Now, tell me, Barty…" his name was like a spell coming from her lips, "…What's your favorite drink here?"

"Firewhiskey."

Bella pulled some galleons from her purse, and tossed them to the bartender. "Two firewhiskeys, please. Biggest size you've got."

She continued treating Barty to the drink, more and more of it, until everything in his vision was doubled. Slowly, Bella took his hand in a tight grip and dragged him out of his seat. "Come with me," she ordered, her voice suddenly colder, firmer than the flirtatious tone she had used for the rest of the night. Barty, drunk as he was, followed her without complaint, and was led to a dark alleyway behind the bar.

"Y' wanna get dirty, d'ya?" Barty slurred, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Bella scoffed, pure loathing the only emotion in her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous, you filthy excuse for a pureblood. I would sooner marry a Mudblood, like that miserable Andromeda." She pushed Barty into the far corner of the alley, swiftly looked around to make sure that no one was near, and then pulled out her wand.

"Whatcha doin'?" Barty asked confusedly, a frown on his face. Drunk as he was, he knew danger when he saw it.

Bella didn't respond. Instead, she smirked, pointed her wand straight at Barty's chest, and declared so softly that Barty had to strain to hear her, in a voice filled with malice, "Imperio."

6. The day that the Longbottoms were tortured was the worst day of his life.

Bellatrix's plan was flawless. She knew that Barty was Frank's best friend; therefore, Frank would undoubtedly let Barty into their home, and, of course, allow in whatever guests he brought with him as well. Then, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan would quickly Disarm the Longbottoms, lock all the possible exits so that they were trapped in their own house, and subject them to the Cruciatus Curse until they revealed the location of the Dark Lord (who, of course, couldn't be dead, it was simply impossible).

Of course, everything went off without a hitch. Bellatrix even made Barty do some of the torturing himself- just for good measure.

Then, once Frank and Alice Longbottom lay twitching, eyes wide and unfocused, on the floor, Bellatrix finally took the Imperius Curse off of Barty. He had stared, in complete shock and horror, at the terrible scene before collapsing in sobs, not even noticing when the Aurors came and captured him.

He hadn't been lying at his trial. He hadn't meant to do it; he hadn't known what he was doing. And yet, it was all his fault.

7. It was his father's fault that Barty Jr. came to truly become a Death Eater in the first place.

Barty Crouch Sr. hadn't stopped to hear his son's words or explanation; he had just sentenced him to a life in Azkaban with barely a trial. In the year between when Barty was first imprisoned and when he escaped, he had more than enough time- more than enough silence- to think about his life, about how his father had never cared for him, not one bit.

And then Bellatrix… in Azkaban, she _talked _to him. Not like the first time they met, at that bar. She told him about the Dark Lord, and how well he treated all of his subjects. How powerful and authoritative he was. He could be the father that Barty never really had, she said. If only Barty would embrace his Death Eater status- for the Dark Lord had given him the Mark when Barty had been under the Imperius Curse- then he would finally have a family. A _true _family.

By the time that Barty was smuggled out of Azkaban, solely thanks to the ailing mother who had always loved him enough for both herself and his father, he was as loyal to the Dark Lord as Bellatrix herself.

8. Every year, he visited his mother's grave.

His father may have put him under the Imperius Curse, but Winky knew Barty Jr. well. She knew how close he was to his mother; that, despite whatever else he may have done, he would always love his mother. So, he convinced Barty Crouch Sr. to let her take his son to Alyssa Crouch's grave- not the one in Azkaban- once a year, just her and Barty Jr.

Though Barty never showed it- he wasn't allowed to- he always appreciated it. Even if Winky was just kind to him out of pity and duty, as he suspected, his yearly trips to the graveyard always reminded him that, even if he was rather crazed, even if he was a Death Eater, he was still human.

Because for that one day, he was always able to break out of the Imperius Curse just barely enough to allow tears to slide down his face.

9. Neville Longbottom was his favorite student.

Sure, Barty wasn't actually Alastor Moody, and no, he didn't really care one bit about Harry Potter or his friends or any of the other students, really. Except for Neville Longbottom. Every kind word he had spoken to Neville, every wise piece of advice, every gift- he had meant all of it.

Because, even though Neville was practically a male version of his mother in looks, and even though he lacked confidence entirely, he was in every other way a miniature version of Frank. Even though Barty knew that other people couldn't see it, he could. He knew. When it came to Frank, or Neville, he always knew.

10. He went to Hell.

Plain and simple as that. Barty Crouch Jr., when he died, went to Hell. But before he passed on completely, he was somehow- and he still didn't know how- granted his final wish.

Barty landed on a wooden floor, steadying himself on his nimble legs. He knew he was dead- he had felt his heart stop beating- but this didn't look like either Hell or Heaven. Where was he?

Looking around, he found his answer: Frank and Alice's house. And there, facing him at the round kitchen table, was Frank himself.

"Frank," Barty choked out disbelievingly, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of his old best friend. Frank looked the same as he had in his Seventh Year at Hogwarts: fit and youthful. Glancing down at his own body, Barty saw that he looked the same way.

"Hello, Barty," Frank greeted, his voice not cold, but certainly not friendly. "I see you've died, too. I died a few years ago- it was welcome, really. Being dead is better than not knowing anything- not knowing yourself, or your loved ones. Better than being little more than a lump of breathing flesh." He looked at Barty pointedly. The former Slytherin gulped.

"I- I sort of know what you mean," Barty began shakily. "You probably haven't heard, but I was given the Dementor's Kiss a few decades ago… ever since then, it's been like the world is just one blank sheet of parchment."

"We finally have something in common then," Frank said. "We both lived for a large portion of our lives as barely living at all. Because of you."

Barty looked down, shamefaced. "I'm so sorry, Frank," he breathed. "I'm so, so, so sorry. I swear… I didn't know what I was doing."

"How could you not have known what you were doing? You tortured me and Alice, Barty. A person doesn't do that without knowing it."

"I was under the Imperius Curse, Frank! I swear it! Bellatrix Lestrange was controlling me. If I had been in my right mind, you know that I _never _would do something like that to you. You were- are- my best mate, Frank, and you always have been."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Frank broke it. "That doesn't excuse you for your other crimes, though."

"I know," Barty replied quietly, his eyes damp. "I know that I deserved the Dementor's Kiss, Frank. I'm not about to ask for forgiveness for bringing the Dark Lord back to life, because I know I won't get it. But, Frank, I _am _asking for forgiveness from you. Because I swear to Merlin, to God, to every deity that has ever existed, that I did not mean to do that to you and Alice, and if I could go back in time and change what happened, then I would, without a second thought."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Frank's face was stony; he was obviously deep in thought. A single tear had escaped from Barty's eyes. "Please," the former Slytherin begged. "Please."

"Alright," Frank finally declared after a pause. "I forgive you."

Barty wasted no time in flinging his arms around Frank in what he was sure was a rather girlish manner. He allowed a few more tears to stream down his face, and he knew that Frank, being the emotional bloke he was, was crying, too. Eventually, the two best mates broke apart when they saw that a red hole had appeared on the far side of the room.

"You're going to Hell," Frank stated, his face wet, just as Barty had guessed.

"I deserve nothing less," Barty remarked solemnly. "I'll miss you, Frank… Thank you."

Frank clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You're welcome, mate. I'll miss you, too."

The two shook hands in a manly, final manner, and then Barty walked towards the red hole. He turned around and waved once at his best mate before willingly entering Hell.

And, even though he was forever condemned to the most evil place in existence, he was content.

Barty Crouch, Jr. was as flawed as a person could be. He was ruthless. He was manipulative. He was cowardly. He was a Slytherin, through and through. But his Hufflepuff mother's blood was half of him, and therefore, he had one all-too-noticeable trait of the yellow-and-black House:

He was a hard worker.

At anything he did, Barty Crouch, Jr. worked his tail off trying to be the best, to succeed. And so, throughout his entire life, though many different things were said about him- some nicer than others- one thing always prevailed above the rest.

He was The One Who Tried. And, sometimes, he even succeeded.

**_A pretty quick update, by my standards! So, what do you think? Like it? Hate it? Personally, this is one of my favorite chapters so far. I find Barty Crouch, Jr. as fascinating as he found the Dark Arts. :)_**

**_Please review, and thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	25. Regulus Black

What You Never Knew

**Regulus Black: The One Who Chose Wrong**

1. He loved his name.

Regulus. Sure, people made fun of him for it; it wasn't, after all, the most common of names. But, then again, those ignorant people probably had no idea that Regulus was the name of the brightest star in the Leo constellation, one of the most luminous stars in the nighttime sky.

Regulus Black wanted to be like that star. He wanted to stand out, to be bright, to _shine_. He wanted for people to look up to him and say to themselves, "Wow, that one's brilliant."

And he was willing to do anything to achieve that.

2. He always regretted how he treated Sirius.

After all, was it really Sirius' fault that he had been Sorted into Gryffindor? No. Sirius couldn't help being born how he was; or at least, that was how Regulus saw it. Before Sirius left for Hogwarts, the two had been as close as anything. Regulus had worshipped Sirius, there was no doubt about it.

Then, the Christmas during Sirius' First Year at Hogwarts, Narcissa's family had come to visit.

"Hello, Regulus," Narcissa greeted him, her tone the same as it always was to him: polite, but very kind, as she always was to her favorite cousin. "Why don't you come make tea for the adults with me?"

It wasn't like Regulus could refuse, so he nodded mutely and followed his older cousin into the kitchen. He really wasn't surprised when Narcissa sat down at the table, making no move to go to the tea set.

"Have a seat, Regulus," she told him, patting the chair beside her. With his tiny nine-year-old body, he managed to get on, sitting with his back straight, just like mother had taught him.

"What do you want to talk about, Cissy?" Regulus asked. He already knew the answer.

"Sirius." Sure enough, he had been right. "I'm sure you know, Regulus, what shame he's brought unto our family."

"Yes."

"Your mother was heartbroken that he disgraced her so; she Flooed to my house, crying about it."

"I know."

Narcissa placed her hand on Regulus' smaller one. "Regulus, I want you to promise me that you'll be in Slytherin."

"I promise."

"Promise me that you won't disappoint your parents, that you'll please them."

"I promise."

"And, Regulus… promise me that you won't follow Sirius around so much when he comes back. Be… colder. Treat him like he deserves to be treated, like the rest of us will treat him: like the disgrace he is."

Regulus was startled by these words, accompanied by the uncommon, spiteful look in his cousin's eye. "But, why, Cissy?"

"I told you, Regulus, he's a disgrace. He's tarnished the Black family. Do you _really _want to hang around with him? He might try to influence you, Regulus. You're a smart boy; surely you know that?" Narcissa brushed some of Regulus' hair away from his eyes. "You're my cousin, Regulus. I care about you. I don't want you to turn into another one of _him_; it would just be too much for everyone to take. Please, Regulus, for the sake of our family: promise me."

"…I promise."

Narcissa beamed at him. "That's a good boy. Now come, we have tea to make."

3. In Hogwarts, Severus Snape was almost like an older brother to him.

Of course, he wasn't _really _an older brother to Regulus. They would have to be related for that to be the case. But Severus, for some reason, seemed to have a soft spot for the younger boy. Perhaps he pitied him for being the sibling of Sirius Black. Perhaps his heart wasn't completely frozen after all. But for whatever reason, whenever Regulus would get bullied; whenever he would find himself in an uncomfortable situation; Severus would always show up to get him out of it.

That was part of why he joined the Dark Lord. Severus had already joined, and Regulus felt that it was his turn to look after Severus for once.

4. Once, when he was thirteen- almost fourteen- he was beaten by his parents.

It wasn't because of anything that he had done. Oh, no. His father had simply come home drunk one day and mistaken his youngest son for Sirius. In a flash, the belt was out, whacking Regulus' backside like it was the new trend. Orion Black hadn't listened to Regulus' cries that he wasn't Sirius, to please stop, to leave him alone. He had just kept hitting, and hitting, and hitting, even after Regulus was crumpled on the ground, crying.

And then, Sirius had come down from his room to see what all the ruckus was about.

He blew a fuse, to use a Muggle saying. Sirius had flown at his father, grabbing the belt from his hand and turning it on him before Orion had had time to blink. Tears streaming down his face, Regulus had only watched as Sirius attacked his father- _their _father- until, finally, he had dropped the belt. Orion's back was bleeding just as much as Regulus', and he was on the ground, both wand and belt far enough away from him that he couldn't reach them.

"Git outta my house!" Orion Black had slurred angrily, his voice all but shaking the house from its volume. "And don't you ever _think _about coming back, you filthy little blood traitor!"

"_Gladly_!" Sirius had screamed back. He had run upstairs, and just three minutes later, come down with a suitcase. Only stopping to shoot a glare at his father, he marched out of the house, going to who knows where.

He hadn't heard Regulus say, his voice tired and weak and barely a whisper, "Thank you."

5. He was in love once.

They met when they were fourteen years old. Her name was Emma Montgomery. She was a sweet girl; very lively, always ready to have fun. Not to mention she was beautiful, intelligent, always prepared for a witty banter, she cared for absolutely _everyone_- from the old beggar on the street to the little girl looked for her teddy bear- and not once did she make fun of Regulus' name.

Emma was a Muggle.

6. Uncle Alphard loved him.

Everyone assumed that, just because Alphard Black had a soft spot for Muggles, the rebellious Sirius was his favorite. It wasn't true. Alphard loved Regulus the most, with all of his heart, and didn't care how clear he made it. Regulus always got everything he wanted from Uncle Alphard, no matter the price. The two did everything together, whether it was going for ice cream to reading books to talking about girl problems.

It was Alphard who had taken Regulus out to Muggle London one day, where he had met Emma.

It was Regulus who had convinced Alphard to, in his will, leave such a large sum of money to Sirius, so that he wouldn't be totally broke and unable to care for himself. Even though Sirius didn't know it, it was Regulus' way of apologizing and saying that, yes, he _did _still care.

7. He almost didn't become a Death Eater.

Yes, Regulus believed- mostly- that all Muggles were filth and deserved to die. But then, there was Emma. The two had stayed together for four years, even though they barely saw each other, went to separate schools, and were generally part of two different worlds.

They had had plans to see each other over the Christmas break of Regulus' Seventh Year, but Emma had had to contact him the day before to tell him that she was sick, stuck in bed, and couldn't meet up with him as planned, but that she hoped he liked the chocolates she sent. Regulus had told her that that was alright, that he hoped she felt better soon, and that yes, he loved the chocolate. However, last minute, he had decided to go over to her house and help take care of her, because he knew her parents- Muggle doctors- had to work even on Christmas.

When he had gotten there, he had found Emma in bed, alright. With another boy. He had promptly gone home, given the container of chicken soup to Kreacher as part of his Christmas present, and cried his eyes out.

He received the Dark Mark the next day.

8. After Sirius was disowned, the two only talked once.

Regulus was eighteen years old. He had just graduated Hogwarts a week earlier, and was hanging out with his friends- Snape, Mulciber, Avery, the whole gang- when he had heard his name be called from the other end of the street.

"REGULUS!" Sirius' voice was furious, and Regulus couldn't help but be slightly frightened. The eldest Black had stopped in front of him, smoke practically coming from his ears. He turned to face Regulus' friends. "Go away. Now."

"You think we're going to listen to a blood trai-"

"Mulciber," Regulus cut him off firmly, setting him a withering look. "All of you. Go. I'll catch up with you in the Leaky Cauldron later."

The group of Slytherins sneered at the nineteen-year-old Gryffindor, but kept on walking, continuing with their conversation from before. Regulus turned back to his older brother. "What do you want, Sirius? I don't have all day, you know."

Sirius had glanced around the street almost warily, noting the eyes he had attracted by screaming his brother's name so loudly, and then grabbed Regulus' wrist, dragging the protesting boy to a deserted side street that wouldn't be noticed unless anyone was looking for it especially. They stopped in the middle, where no one could hear them. "What's this I hear about you becoming a Death Eater?"

Regulus looked down, his face a mask. "I don't know. What did you hear?"

Sirius gritted his teeth. "I _heard _that you're planning on joining them sometime in the near future."

Regulus glanced up, summoning what little courage he possessed and looking his brother in the eye. "One of us has to live up to Mother and Father's expectations."

He fell to the ground as Sirius slapped him. "You fool," the Gryffindor spat. "Do you _really _care this much about impressing them? About being little Mr. Perfect, just like you always have been?"

Despite himself, Regulus, pushing himself up, smirked. "Sounds to me like you're a wee bit jealous, Sirius."

The Gryffindor gritted his teeth, clenching his fists at the side. "Who's the one that used to follow me like a little lost puppy, eh?"

Regulus glared. "_Used to_. Key words. I've grown up since them."

"It's more like you've grown _bad _since then, if you ask me," Sirius shot back. His expression softened. "What _happened _to you, Regulus? You used to be different; you were a good kid. What changed?"

"I told you, Sirius," Regulus said, his tone less biting now, "I grew up. I figured out the priorities in my life."

"Oh, and murdering innocent Muggles is one of them?"

"Maybe if you'd stuck around, you'd know that that was far from what I want to do!"

"Would I? Would I _really_? Or would you be too busy hanging up news hangings about Voldemort to talk to me?"

"_Don't say his name!_"

"You want me to stop saying his name? To be a coward, like you and the rest of your little cronies? Voldemort! Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemor-"

"_Just shut up!_" Regulus shouted. "Stop taunting me, like you know what's best for me! You don't! In fact, _you left_, so I don't even know why you're talking to me right now when you've refused to even look at me for years!"

"Regulus-"

"Don't even deny it, Sirius! Back in Hogwarts, I _always_ tried to catch your eye! I repeatedly tried to come up to you in the hallways! You always ignored me, you always went in the other direction! So why, all of the sudden, are you paying me any mind? Why _now_?"

"Because I heard a rumor that you were going to screw up your life by becoming one of Voldem- oh, alright, _You-Know-Who's_ henchmen!" Sirius hissed. "And I'm not going to just sit by and let that happen, knowing that I did nothing to even _try _to stop it!"

"_Why_?"

"Because you're my _brother_, that's why!"

Both boys were silent, their features scarily similar, staring at each other. Finally, Regulus, his grey eyes hard, spoke.

"You were once, Sirius," he said quietly. "Once, you were my brother, and I looked up to you. I _loved _you. But then you left." His eyes glinted. "Then you decided to pretend I didn't exist, that I wasn't your brother. So, do you know what? It's too late. You aren't my brother anymore."

"Reg-"

"No, Sirius. Just… stop. You're just wasting your breath." Regulus turned around and walked back down the side street. He stopped halfway and turned his head around. "I'm sorry."

"I am too, Regulus," Sirius said, staring Regulus straight into his eyes. The eyes they shared. "Sorry that you're making this mistake. The Regulus I know would make a better choice than this. But- you can still not do it, you know. I know people who can help you-"

"It's too late now, Sirius," Regulus told his brother, pulling up his left robe sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on his arm. "There's nothing you or anyone can do for me now."

And then, he Apparated away.

9. Kreacher was more than just a servant to him.

Was it sad that, when he graduated Hogwarts, his House Elf became his best friend? Regulus knew it was, but who else was he to befriend? All of his old friends from school had suddenly become so… cold. Malicious. And Regulus didn't even know why. Sure, they were Death Eaters now; did that _really _mean that they had to be so cruel to _each other_?

Kreacher was the only one who stuck by Regulus' side through everything, during his whole life. The loyal House Elf tended to Regulus' wounds; kept him company when he was lonesome; made sure that the younger Black son was always as happy as could be.

Regulus couldn't help returning the favor, as much as he could. If that meant being a friend to the House Elf, as well as a Master, then that was what he would do. And if that happened to make the both of them better?

Even better.

10. The Dark Lord torturing Kreacher was only part of the reason Regulus betrayed his master.

He and his fellow Death Eaters were on a raid of a Muggle village, killing anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path.

Regulus, currently, had bust open a Muggle house. It looked to house only one person, judging by the few possessions; a girl, if he went by the rather large amount of pink. Slowly, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floors, he walked around the home, pushing open the doors. Finally, he found the woman. She was huddled in a corner, long blonde hair in messy tangles. Her brown eyes gazed up at him, bright and terrified.

Regulus would've remembered her anywhere.

"Hello, Emma," he greeted her, his voice cold. Her jaw dropped with shock.

"R-R-Regulus?" She stammered. "Wh-What are you d-d-doing h-here? Wh-Why are y-you dressed like th-that? Wh-Wh-What's g-going on?" She paused, and then she stood up, hands on her hips, as something occurred to her. "Why haven't I heard from you for a year?"

"Oh, I don't know," Regulus said sarcastically, vanishing his mask with a wave of his hand. His grey eyes glared at her. "Maybe because at Christmas when we were seventeen, I decided to surprise you with some chicken soup- because it's your favorite, and you were sick- and I found you with another man."

Emma's face drooped with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Regulus. It was just once. I mean, we- we barely even saw each other, and he had been chasing me for so long, and I- I just- I'm so sorry, Regulus. I never meant to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, it's a bit too late for that now," he laughed bitterly. "What's done is done."

For a moment, Emma was silent. Then, she said, "What happened to you, Regulus? I've never seen you so… cold. Mean. And why are you dressed like that?" Her eyes widened as she thought of something. "Are you one of the people attacking my neighborhood?"

"I've changed since you last saw me, Emma," Regulus said. He couldn't look her in the eye.

"Yeah, and clearly not for the better!" She exclaimed angrily.

Suddenly, there were footsteps in the house. Both Emma and Regulus froze. Making a split second decision, Regulus hissed, "Emma, go hide in the corner, like you were before." With a wave of his hand, his mask was back on.

"But why? Regulus, you aren't- you aren't going to hurt me, are you?"

"I could never hurt you, Emma," Regulus shook his head, "you should know that by now. Go in the corner."

Emma did this and began whimpering, looking truly scared, while Regulus pointed his wand at her. Rabastan Lestrange found them in this same position.

"Looks like you found one, Black," he leered. He looked her over. "She's a pretty one, too, isn't she?"

"I guess," Regulus grunted noncommittally. _She's not pretty, she's beautiful, _he added in his head. _Even after so long._

"Too bad she's a Mudblood," Rabastan sneered. "So, Regulus, do you want to finish her off, or shall I?"

Regulus froze. His aim had been to distract Rabastan; to get him to go away. He couldn't hurt Emma, he just _couldn't_… not when he still loved her with all he had.

"As you said, she is rather pretty," he started, pretending to survey Emma carefully. "Perhaps you could let me- handle her, so to speak?"

Rabastan let out a barking laugh. "I'm afraid that the Dark Lord wouldn't like that, even though I, for one, can see where you're coming from. We've got to follow his orders, Regulus, and he said not to leave a single Muggle alive."

"The Dark Lord doesn't have to know."

"The Dark Lord knows _everything_," Rabastan countered. "Look, are you going to deal with her, or do you want me to? We're almost done here."

"Just… give me a minute with her," Regulus requested. "It's all I need. Then, I'll… dispose of her."

"Fair enough," Rabastan shrugged. "I'll be waiting outside, got it?"

"Got it. See you in a minute, Rabastan."

With a nod, the older Death Eater left. Once Regulus was sure he was gone, he closed the door and walked over to Emma.

"Regulus, what-" he cut her off with a kiss, long and passionate, embedding his fingers in her hair. She kissed him back with a fervor, their lips moving as one; they were both out of breath when they finally broke apart.

"Run," Regulus told her. "Run, and don't look back."

"But, Regulus-"

"Just _go_."

Emma pulled his head down so their lips met again, and, when they broke apart, said, "I love you, Regulus."

"I love you, too, Emma," he responded. With one soft smile, she then darted out the door.

Just a second later, he heard Rabastan shout, "Avada Kedavra!" and then Emma's scream of terror. Horrified, Regulus burst out of the room, not even bothering to put his mask back on.

"I caught her trying to escape on you, Regulus," Rebastan said. "I got her, don't you worry. Now put your mask back on, it's time to go."

Regulus did this, and mutely followed the older man, his mask hiding the tears streaming down his face.

XxxX

Regulus Black led a complicated life, one full of turmoil, fighting, pain, love, and death. No doubt could be held that, by becoming a Death Eater and a murderer, he had made all the wrong choices in life. Even he knew that.

Yet in the end, he did what everyone least suspected of him. He betrayed the Dark Lord, and lost his life doing so- knowing full well that that would happen. He did it for Kreacher, his best friend; he did it for Emma, the woman he had always loved, the woman who had been so brutally murdered by his own kind just because she was a Muggle; he did it for Sirius, the brother who he had never really stopped loving.

As the Inferi pulled him into the black depths of their waters, their hands clenched around his neck, he knew that he had finally made the right choice.

_**My longest chapter yet! Thanks to Leah, for nagging me to write this, and to StrawberryFields4EverandEver for suggesting I do Regulus; I found him really interesting to create a life for! Hope you all liked this chapter, and that you won't throw rotten vegetables at me for being so late to update!**_

**_PLEASE review! _**

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	26. Teddy Lupin

What You Never Knew

**Teddy Lupin: The Boy with Three Families**

1. As a baby, he had a favorite toy.

It was his "security blanket" of sorts, and from age one to five years old, Teddy refused to go anywhere without it. Whether it was to have dinner with his godfather, or to drag his grandma to a Muggle movie theater, he was always accompanied by that little stuffed animal.

Harry had taken him for a day on the town- in a Muggle neighborhood, so as not to be recognized, and with a cap over Teddy's head so no one would see his hair rapidly changing colors. It hadn't taken long for one-year-old Teddy to burst into tears, simply because he was a baby and he did that quite often. Forcing panic out of his mind, Harry quickly pushed Teddy's strolled into the nearest store- which just happened to be a toy store.

"Shh, it's okay Teddy, it's okay," Harry soothed quietly, pulling the young boy out of the stroller and bouncing him in his arms. Teddy kept crying. "Look at all the pretty toys, Teddy. See? See all the nice toys? They're real fun, don't you think?"

Still, Teddy was sobbing his baby blue eyes out, even though he had been turned to face the shelf of stuffed animals. Finally, he stopped.

His gaze was rested on one toy that stood out from the rest of dogs and cats and bunny rabbits.

Almost cautiously, he reached out his tiny arm and grabbed the toy. An adorable grin lit up his face and he squealed, hugging it tightly to himself.

"You want that one, do you?" Harry chuckled, relieved that the tears had subsided. "Well, let's see how much it costs."

With his free hand, he grabbed the tag of the toy. The stuffed animal almost resembled a large dog, but not quite. It was too… savage. _Too_ furry and shaggy. It stood on its hind legs, teeth bared, golden eyes narrowed in a vicious manner. Harry frowned. What were the Muggles trying to portray?

He glanced down at the tag in his hand at last, and his heart skipped a beat before a small smile crept upon his face. Money wasn't a matter now. He _had _to get this for Teddy.

The tag read, "Moony the Werewolf".

2. When he first met Victoire, he hated her.

He was two years old at the time, and all he could focus on was that, for the first time since he could remember, the attention wasn't entirely focused on him amongst the Weasley clan (plus Andromeda, Harry, and Hermione). Instead, they were all smiling down at something small and squirmy in Fleur's arms. Frowning, little Teddy pushed through the crowd and asked loudly, "What's that?"

"This is Victoire," Hermione told him, not even looking at Teddy. "She's Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's new daughter."

"I wanna see!" Teddy exclaimed, indecisive as to whether or not he liked Victoire or not. "Up!"

From Hermione's side, Ron obediently lifted up the little boy, and beamed with pride, "That's my little niece," while Teddy scrutinized Victoire.

She was red and wrinkly, and _bald_, except for a few silvery strands of hair. She was tiny, too. All in all, she was ugly. Teddy was sure that he was a much better looking baby.

"I don't like her," he stated stubbornly.

To his shock, he was _ignored_. Ron kept holding him, and everyone continued looking down at Victoire. Finally, Teddy cried out, "Why're you all looking at _her_? I said something!"

Everyone around him chuckle, and Teddy pouted. He glared at Victoire. This was all _her _fault. He would get her back. He would hate her forever. He squirmed in Ron's arms, and the tall redhead finally set him down. Teddy ran out to where Andromeda was waiting for him. Andromeda seemed to know what he was thinking- it wasn't really that hard, his face was a tad wet, after all- and she gathered him up in her arms, planted a warm kiss on his forehead, and Apparated him home.

3. He was seven years old when he finally learned the truth about his parents.

He knew that they were dead, of course. It was hard not to, what with being raised by his grandmother and godfather. But that was all he knew; that, and they had died bravely, for a good cause.

On his seventh birthday, though, Harry and Andromeda took him aside and sat him down. They told him that his parents had died in that big war he heard so much about, the one that Victoire was born on the anniversary of. They had died fighting against Voldemort.

Then, they answered all his questions. No, his mother had not dyed her hair pink; she was a Metamorphagus, just like him. And no, his father wasn't a perfectly normal person. He was a werewolf. But that did NOT mean Teddy was one, he stayed perfectly normal every full moon, didn't he?

When Teddy had finally stopped asking questions, when he finally knew all he wanted to know about the subject, he said, "Oh. Okay, then."

And that was that.

4. Andromeda was his favorite person in the world.

Yeah, Harry was pretty darn cool, and so were the rest of the people in the Weasley family. But his Grandmother was his everything, and he knew that she was his, too. She had lost so, so much in the war- her husband, her daughter, her estranged sister even. But Teddy liked to think that she had gained something in him, too. They were there for each other, through thick and thin; and whenever someone asked if he missed his parents terribly, he shrugged and truthfully said, "No." Because Andromeda more than made up for it.

5. No one expected his Sorting.

In fact, even the Sorting Hat was a bit surprised- but only a bit- when he called out Teddy's House.

"Teddy Lupin!" Professor Flitwick squeaked out, and then automatically wiped his eyes, sniffling. Clearly, like so many other people, he had known Remus and Nymphadora Lupin.

Obediently, Teddy stepped up to the stool, tripping along the way, his turquoise hair attracting more looks and murmurs than his name. Flitwick stood up on tiptoes to put the Sorting Hat on the already gangly boy.

_Hello there! _Teddy greeted enthusiastically. _You're the Sorting Hat!_

**I'm well aware of that, believe it or not. Now, let's see, whose child are you?**

_Remus Lupin and Nypha- no, Nymphadora Tonks. _

**Huh. I never would've imagined those two together… But you weren't raised by them, were you?**

_Nope. They're dead. Grandmother raised me._

**Andromeda Tonks, I assume?**

_Yep. _

**Now, let's see… you're quite like your mother, you know. Very clumsy, but with a genuinely good heart. Not to mention you're exceedingly loyal, and you work very hard at everything you do.**

_Thanks!_

**You're just as much like your father, too, though. Brave and determined; you'll always do what's right, no matter how reckless or foolish.**

_Um… thank you? I think?_

**You could fit equally well into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, there's no doubt about that… but which one? Quite a hard question to answer…**

_Can I say something please?_

**Why not?**

_Well, to be honest, I don't want to be in either of those Houses. Don't get me wrong, I think Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are both utterly fantastic, but if I were into one of them, I would feel like I chose my dad over my mum, or vice versa. And I don't want that._

**What do you want, then?**

_…Well, I've been talking to Grandmother, and she told me that you almost Sorted her into Ravenclaw, and she wishes that she let you, because she didn't like Slytherin._

**I did indeed do that. What point are you getting at, Mr. Lupin?**

_I'd like to be in Ravenclaw, if you don't mind. I think that Grandmother would really be happy about it. Plus everyone always tells me about how my dad was really smart._

**You yourself are quite intelligent as well. Yes… yes, you could definitely fit into Ravenclaw. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner.**

_Thanks, Sorting Hat._

**The son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, being Sorted into Ravenclaw… I never thought I'd see the day. **"RAVENCLAW!" **Don't trip on your way down, Mr. Lupin. You may be a Ravenclaw, but you're still quite like your mother.**

6. He became friends with Victoire a week before his Third Year of Hogwarts.

He and the rest of the Weasleys were at Shell Cottage for Victoire's Goodbye Party; she was the first of the next generation of actual Weasley to be going to Hogwarts, after all. It was funny; amidst the crowds and excitement, Teddy thought that he was the only one who noticed Victoire creep out of the backyard. Curious, Teddy followed her.

He caught up with her at the beach, where she sat in the sand, holding her knees against her chest. Almost cautiously, Teddy sat down beside her.

"Hi, Teddy," she greeted him, her face hidden behind a sheet of silvery blond hair.

"Hey," he greeted a bit stiffly. "Why'd you leave your party?"

She turned to face him, her deep blue eyes, exactly like her father's, boring into his own, which were orange at the moment. "I wanted to be alone."

"Okay. I'll go then." Teddy stood up, only to feel a squeeze on his hand. He looked down at Victoire, whose hand was in his. Her eyes said everything. Mutely, he sat back down.

"Why'd you want to be alone?" He asked her finally, glancing over at her.

"Everyone expects me to be excited," Victoire said. "But I- I'm not. I mean, I've heard loads about Hogwarts, and it sounds great and all, but… I'm more nervous than anything else."

"Why?"

"I won't know anyone! Plus, it'll be the first time I'm away from my parents! And what if the other kids are mean? Or if I get Sorted into Slytherin? Oh, I just know that I'm going to fail all of my classes, I just know it, and everyone's going to be disappointed in me and so angry and I just don't know how to deal with that because I'm not brave and I can't face all of them down and there are just so many of us and I have to please all of them but I can't because I'm only one person, I'm only me, and that's all I want to be, but I don't want anyone to be upset with me!"

Teddy blinked. "Well, that's certainly a lot."

"I know," Victoire sighed, her blue eyes sad.

"You don't have to worry about any of it, though."

Victoire whipped her head around to face him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're going to make friends no problem," Teddy began, "because this is the only time I've ever seen you without a big grin on your face. So, you won't be lonesome, and you'll be so busy with your new friends that you won't have time to miss your parents, not much, anyways. And if you're Sorted into Slytherin, then I'm Albus Dumbledore."

Victoire giggled, a soft smile lighting up her face. It spurred Teddy to keep talking.

"There's no way you're going to fail all of your classes. In fact, I can guarantee that you won't fail any at all, because frankly, you're brilliant." Victoire blushed at this. "You could probably be in Ravenclaw with me, if you wanted to. None of your family's going to be upset at you, no matter what you do, because they love you more than anything. So, there won't be any 'facing down' to do."

"What about bullies, though?"

"Everyone gets bullied at least once in their life; I can't promise anything with that," Teddy sighed sadly. Victoire's face fell. Hastily, Teddy added, "But I'll protect you, don't worry," before he knew what he had said. Instantly, the eldest Weasley of that generation brightened.

"You mean it?"

Teddy nodded. He couldn't back on a promise. Victoire beamed. "Does that mean you don't hate me after all?"

Teddy frowned, truly confused. "Why would I hate you?"

"You never talk to me or anything, but you talk to all the other cousins. Sometimes, you glare at me when you think I'm not watching. I'm not blind, Teddy."

"I don't hate you," Teddy stated. "I haven't since I was four, and you stopped stealing all of my attention."

"…You're _jealous _of me!"

"I never said that!"

"But you implied it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!" Victoire grinned, and then suddenly hugged Teddy. She whispered in his ear, "It's okay. I forgive you. I hated Dominique for years after she came along."

Teddy laughed, managing to ignore the beat his heart skipped.

7. Herbology was his favorite subject.

Sure, he didn't get the greatest marks in that class, and he was a natural at Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he couldn't help letting a grin light up his face when he walked into the greenhouse.

And it was all because of Professor Neville Longbottom.

Teddy's first year at Hogwarts had been Neville's first year as a teacher. Not only was Professor Longbottom kind, humorous, and a genuinely good teacher, but the two had an odd amount in common. Both had lost their parents to a war against Voldemort; both had been raised by their grandmother because of it. Both were too clumsy for their own good. Both were nearly Sorted into Hufflepuff, and both of them were very good friends with the Weasley and the "Golden Trio", as people took to calling Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

In a way, Neville was like a big brother of sorts to Teddy. They both knew that, even if it was never said out loud. On certain subjects, they understood each other in ways that no one else could.

It was no surprise to either of them when Teddy began going to Neville for girl advice.

8. He first figured out he was in love with Victoire in his Seventh Year, the day before he graduated.

He had been doing his Prefect duties when he had heard those sloppy sucking sounds and moans that signified snogging. Grumbling about how he shouldn't have to deal with this under his breath, he identified the sounds to be coming from a broom closet down the corridor, pulled it open…

And his jaw dropped.

There was Victoire- sweet, smart, drop dead gorgeous, one of his best friends- engaged in a heavy battle of the tongues with a Ravenclaw he recognized from the year below him. When he finally recovered his ability of speech, he shut his jaw and cleared his throat.

Victoire and the boy- whose name he remembered was Darren- broke apart instantly and stared at Teddy, horrified. A rosy blush covered the freckles on Victoire's porcelain skin.

"Want to explain this?" he asked, his voice about a pitch higher than usual.

"W-W-Well," Victoire began, "y-you see, w-we're-"

"We're dating," Darren cut her off, "and we wanted some… privacy."

"It's after curfew," Teddy pointed out firmly, wondering why on earth he felt a sudden urge to strangle Darren with his bare hands and then lock himself and Victoire in the broom closet. "That warrants a detention."

"Tomorrow's the last day of school for the year!" Darren protested. "You can't give us detention!"

"You wanna argue with me, kid?" Teddy growled, stepping forward. Darren's eyes widened, and he gulped.

"Nope," the Sixth Year squeaked out.

"Good. You two have a detention, first Thursday back at school. I'll talk to McGonagall about it, make sure she knows. You two can go back up to the common room tower now."

Darren didn't waste a minute scampering away. He didn't even bother to look back to see if his girlfriend was following him. _Git, _Teddy thought. _He's not nearly good enough for her. What does she see in him?_

He had to turn his gaze to Victoire now. She was still staring at him, with an expression of mingled confusion, curiosity, and something else that Teddy couldn't quite name.

"I'm, erm, sorry," she said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "you know, that I had to give you detention."

"It's no problem. I broke the rules; I deserved it. Darren and I both did," Victoire said, her expression not changing.

"Why're you staring at me like that?" Teddy burst out.

"Your hair's been flashing between dark green and bright red ever since you found me and Darren," Victoire said simply.

Teddy frowned. He hadn't even realized his hair was changing colors. And such weird colors, too… his hair only turned dark green when he was really, _really _jealous of someone, and it only turned bright red when he was very angry.

"Are you angry at Darren?" Victoire questioned, taking a step closer to him, her eyes suspicious. "Are you… _jealous _of him?"

"What?" Teddy exclaimed much too quickly, laughing nervously. "Of course not! I- I mean, I'm _angry _at him, of course I am, he was _snogging _you, you're like my little sister!" The words tasted bitter and false on his tongue, and he was sure that he saw Victoire's face fall the slightest bit. "But I was _not _jealous of him!"

"Okay," Victoire nodded. She walked as if to go past Teddy, but then stopped, and, up on her tiptoes, whispered in his ear, her breath hitting his neck and sending shivers down his spine, "Whatever you say."

Then, as if to taunt him even further, she placed a lingering kiss on his cheek before brushing past him.

Teddy stared at her, dumbstruck, as she went. Slowly, his hand rose to touch the tingling spot on his cheek where she had kissed him. "Oh, crap."

9. Bill gave him his blessing.

It was quite odd, really. At a regular Weasley gathering- they held those often- Bill walked up to Teddy, who was watching Victoire with ill disguised longing, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, hi, Bill!" Teddy exclaimed, startled. "How are you? How's Gringotts?"

"You know, Victoire's single," Bill said, completely ignoring the boy's questions.

"She is? I thought she was dating some Hufflepuff bloke?" Teddy asked, not daring to believe it, less his hopes come crashing down.

"They broke up last week," Bill said. He looked Teddy in the eye. "I give you my blessing."

So, when Teddy tagged along with the family later that year at Platform 9 ¾, he felt no qualms at all about pulling Victoire aside and telling her exactly how he felt. He proceeded to snog her senseless, and she certainly didn't protest.

10. His career choice surprised everyone.

He was approached about becoming an Auror, or a Healer, or even a journalist for the Daily Prophet, because Teddy was just plain good at most things.

Instead, he decided to become a wandmaker.

He became Ollivander's apprentice, and when the old man finally died- no one was really that surprised, he had lasted longer than expected anyways- he took over the shop. Victoire and their two children, Nymphadora Andromeda and Remus Harry, traveled around the world with him, collecting different materials for the wands. The family made their wands together every summer, always managing to make it back to Diagon Alley just in time for the yearly rush of Hogwarts students.

Some people said that Teddy's wands were even better than Ollivander's. Indeed, they were very different- Teddy had a more varied amount of cores, and used several more wood types. But Teddy refused to say that anyone's wands were better than anyone else's, because, really, the wand depends on the wizard or witch. So aren't all wands really the same anyways, when it came down to it?

Teddy Lupin was several things. An orphan; a Ravenclaw; and a husband and father, amongst many others. He was different, just like every single person is different from every single other person. But he was even more different, because most people only have one family. _He _had three. He had Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, the birth parents he never knew; he had his Grandmother; he had Harry and the Weasleys. The latter two took him in, raised him like he was their own child, not a mere grandchild or godson. He was part of their family, through thick and thin.

And he couldn't help but feel pretty darn lucky about that.

_**Meh... not my best chapter. Personally, I don't really like it. But, at least it's a quick update, by my standards! Please review (even if it's to tell me that this chapter sucked)! They make me write more!**_

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Joelle8_**

**_P.S. I only need four more reviews to make it to 200! Please, please, PLEASE help me achieve that! I'm begging you here! I promise a shout-out to my 200th reviewer! _**


	27. Viktor Krum

What You Never Knew

**Viktor Krum: The One Who Cared**

1. He was born with black eyes.

His parents didn't realize just how unusual this was until the Healers told them that most babies were born with blue eyes, and the actual color would develop a few months later. But Viktor's eyes were dark and deep the moment he blinked them open, a loud wail coming out of his mouth.

It was a fairly minor thing. It didn't affect Viktor's life any. He couldn't help but feel different, though, whenever he looked at any of his family's baby pictures, and saw blue eyes shining innocently back at him.

2. He had a younger brother.

Josef Krum was everything that Viktor was not- exceptionally handsome, magically talented and intelligent. Two years Viktor's junior, everyone genuinely liked him, whereas Viktor was too socially awkward to open up to most people enough to become good friends with them.

If the world had worked right, then Josef would have been constantly overshadowing Viktor in everything, perhaps not including flying. But the world can be a cruel, unfair place, and when Josef was three years old- still beautiful, already having produced accidental magic, able to put together a 500-piece puzzle in less than two minutes- he was diagnosed with autism.

3. He thought he was going to be a Squib.

The reason was simple: Though he had been flying ever since he was old enough to sit on a broom, he had never performed a single piece of magic. Not one. Until, that is, one day when he was nine years old, and was taking a walk with Josef.

Near the Krum family's house, there was a walking trail that wrapped around a fish-filled pond and was surrounded by flowers. Josef loved it there. It was nature; it was simple; he could understand it. Sometimes, when Viktor had nothing else to do, he would walk around there with his younger brother, because, as he constantly told his parents, Josef needed to get out more.

This was just a regular day- the sun was shining in a clear blue sky; the birds were chirping merrily, the bees were buzzing from flower to flower. Viktor and Josef were walking in silence, the later flapping his hand as he often did, when two of their neighbors happened to walk past.

Vadim and Alexei Dimitrov were two brothers from a long line of pureblood wizards, and as a result, they often ended up at social gatherings including the pureblood Krum family. The two sets of siblings had never gotten on well; but around adults, they managed to put on a polite façade.

Now, though, they were alone. Vadim, seeing Viktor and Josef first, immediately smirked and nudged Alexei.

"Well, look who it is, Alexei!" Vadim sneered. "The crummy Krums!"

"If that is the best you can come up with," Viktor said coldly, not bothering to even stop walking, "then you are not worth my time."

"More like you can't think up a comeback," Alexei snorted, eyes narrowing.

Viktor didn't answer; he and Josef just kept walking. The Dimitrov brothers exchanged a look, and then, each of them grabbed one of Josef's arms and pulled him back.

"!" Josef's high wail sounded in an instant, ringing across the otherwise silent grounds. Viktor paled and whipped around, striding towards them.

"Let go of him," he growled, taking care to stop himself from shouting. That would only scare Josef, who was still screaming, more. Josef hated being touched, and he hated loud noises; a combination of the two, especially from a quiet person like Viktor, would frighten him and disturb his sense of normalcy.

"Make us," Vadim shot back, "Duck Feet."

Viktor bristled at the nickname, given to him on account of his feet, which pointed to the sides in a duck-like manner.

"Let go of Josef," he repeated, "and go away. Do not come back."

"Why should we listen to _you_?" Alexei scoffed. "You're not the boss of us!"

"Let. Go. Of. Him. _Now._"

"_Make us_."

Viktor's glare at Vadim and Alexei would've made Death himself cower in fear. For a moment, all was still, and there wasn't a sound except for Josef's screeching.

And then, on that perfectly sunny day, thunder clouds appeared over the heads of both the Dimitrov brothers.

Rain poured down on them and only them, and thunder rang in their ears. Lightning flashed down, narrowly missing them. They let go of Josef, who was perfectly dry, with a start, and ran down the path towards home.

Viktor, still bristling with anger, began trying to help his younger brother calm down, and was oblivious to the fact that he had just performed magic until he told his parents about it.

4. Durmstrang was his least favorite place in the world.

The castle was small, dark and damp; not to mention so, so cold. All the teachers took delight in preaching about how wonderful the Dark Arts were, and taught them with a fervor that frankly disgusted Krum. This made him a bit of an outcast, but he didn't mind. He wouldn't go against his own feelings just to gain acceptance from others. In his opinion, that was even worse, even more cowardly, than the Dark Arts themselves.

5. He detested Igor Karkaroff.

Perhaps it was because of Krum's lack of magical skill, or because of his defiance towards Durmstrang, but the Igor Karkaroff _hated _him. With every fiber of his being, it seemed.

But was worse than this was that Karkaroff refused to admit Josef into Durmstrang because he was autistic.

Viktor, when he heard this, knew he had to do something. He had to appeal to Karkaroff, to someone convince the man to change his mind.

His Headmaster was greedy, he knew. He would use someone else's skills to his advantage. Viktor knew that he was exceptional at flying, though he preferred to fly on his own, rather than play Quidditch. But if he showed Karkaroff his skills, he thought, maybe they could strike a deal: Viktor would join Durmstrang's Quidditch team in exchange for Josef being allowed to come to school.

Viktor carried out this plan, and, to his great shock, it worked. Not to mention, Karkaroff, who suddenly knew Viktor's true value, treated the boy like he was a king.

Despite this- or perhaps because of it- Viktor's fists still clenched at his sides whenever his Headmaster greeted him in the hallways.

6. Sometimes, Viktor hated flying.

From the moment that he revealed his talent to the rest of his school (during his first Quidditch, during which he caught the Snitch barely five minutes after the game started), everyone was suddenly clamoring to be his friend. Girls stood in lines to date him, teachers doted on him… without a doubt, he had suddenly become the most popular boy in school.

And he loathed it.

He was Viktor Krum, the quiet loner who only really liked his brother. He had always been perfectly content with being left to his own devices. But because of flying, everything had changed.

There were times when he almost considered throwing away his broom, quitting flying altogether. But then he would remember Josef, and how Karkaroff (though it hadn't been explicitly stated) would expel Josef if Viktor dared break their deal.

So he continued flying, and his love for it even made him eventually made him like Quidditch, too. And as he watched his younger brother thrive in his school lessons, going above and beyond everyone's expectations- even if he was considered too odd to have any friends- he knew he had made the right decision.

7. Hermione Granger was his first love.

It was true- the bushy-haired, Muggleborn bookworm was the first girl he had ever had really strong feelings for. Honestly, he didn't know how anyone could possibly overlook the radiance of her smile, the sparkle in her eyes, the determination in her voice as she talked about something she felt strongly about. And yet, for some reason, people were _surprised _when Hermione looked absolutely gorgeous at the Yule Ball; Viktor had known that she would be stunning.

But he also knew that she didn't feel the same way, and so even though he was a bit heartbroken when she declined his offer to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer, he let them continue to be friends through numerous letters.

Eventually, he grew to see her as only a friend- a good friend, but still, just a friend. It took awhile, but he managed it. After all, not _everyone's _first love is The One.

8. He finally got married when he was thirty years old.

Clara Ivanova was a teammate of his on the Bulgarian Quidditch team; a Chaser, three years older than him. When she became pregnant, she was forced to retire from Quidditch.

The person who took her place was none other than Yelena Ivanova, her younger sister.

Viktor and Yelena started out not getting along too well, not at all; they had frequent arguments about Quidditch strategies, not to mention competitions about who was the better flyer. Finally, their teammates grew so incensed with them that they locked the two twenty-eight-year-olds in the locker room and stole their wands, forcing them to stay in there until they had resolved their fight.

One thing led to another, and by the time that the rest of the Bulgarian Quidditch team opened the locker room door, Viktor and Yelena were snogging heatedly. They got married two years later.

9. Josef lived with Viktor and Yelena.

Sadly, Josef was too autistic to live on his own; so Viktor discussed it with Yelena, and they agreed that Josef could live with them. They moved into a four-bedroom house near a nice pond and a trail that Josef could walk on when he had nothing else to do.

This arrangement lasted until Josef died of natural causes when he was ninety-two years old. No one ever regretted it.

10. Viktor and Yelena had one child.

Their daughter, Iskra, was lucky enough to inherit both of her parents' best features. Her father's striking black eyes and dark hair; her mother's straight nose and smile. Not to mention that she could out-fly even some professionals.

An arrangement was made with Headmaster Flitwick of Hogwarts, and Iskra was spared having to attend Durmstrang, instead going to Hogwarts and being Sorted into Gryffindor.

Viktor couldn't help but laugh out loud when she wrote one day during Sixth Year and told him that she was dating Hugo Weasley.

Through thick and thin, Viktor always did what he thought was right, even if it had negative consequences on his part. Whether it was refusing to worship the Dark Arts like his classmates, or getting involved in Quidditch so his brother could go to school, or spending days and nights begging Filius Flitwick to let Iskra go to Hogwarts, nearly everything he did was for someone else's good. Because he was The One Who Cared, and if what he did helped someone else he loved, that was all that really mattered to him.

_**Hmm... I think I actually rather like this one!**_

**_To everyone: I'm not sure if I accurately portrayed autism or not, but I did my best. Note that autism comes in different forms and degrees of severity, so one autistic person can be different from another. If anyone out there knows an autistic person, I really, really hope I didn't offend you, because I sure as heck didn't mean to. I have the utmost respect for people with autism._**

**_Another note to everyone: School is going to start soon for me, and so my updating will most likely be even worse than it currently is, because I'm starting a new, more difficult school in an unfamilar country. So, please, forgive me in advance, and have patience with me._**

**_Thanks much! Please, please, PLEASE review!_**

**_-Joelle8_**


	28. Padma Patil

What You Never Knew

**Padma Patil: The Invisible One**

1. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her childhood.

Everyone has _something _not go according to plan during their first ten years of life. It's a fact of life- nothing can always go right, therefore ten years cannot go by with everything being absolutely perfect.

But everything happened just like it was supposed to for Padma. She and Parvati were born- beautiful, identical twins. Padma was the quiet, brainy one, who could be found in their family's extensive library, reading books that should've been far beyond her level; Parvati had a fully equipped doll house, and enjoyed dressing up her toys- and herself- in pink princess outfits, and could often be heard talking to these toys as if they were real. Yet despite their entirely different personalities, they were best friends, closer than anything.

People would look at the Patil family and think, _That's just remarkable- such a happy family, with such beautiful parents and such adorable children! _Padma took it for granted.

She should have known it wouldn't last.

2. The day of her Sorting, she cried.

She didn't try to get to know any of her fellow Ravenclaws, didn't try and adjust to living away from home. She just cried. Because she had just been separated, in an unspeakable way, from the most important person in her life: Her twin, her best friend, the sister that Padma had never been without before.

But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was that they had that twin-telepathy thing going on, too, and Padma could tell that Parvati wasn't missing her _at all_.

3. When she was twelve, her mother announced that she was pregnant.

Pallavi Patil was forty-five years old when it happened, and it came as a shock to the entire family. The baby was an accident, that was indisputable, but it was nonetheless welcome. Months were spent renovating the house to make it livable for a third child, congratulatory letters poured in for weeks. Padma had never been opposed to the idea of a new brother or sister, unlike Parvati- in fact, she was thrilled, and looking forward to being able to teach her baby sibling everything she knew.

And then, just six months after the announcement, the baby was born. It was small and wrinkled, just like a newborn is supposed to be.

But it was also silent and blue, which isn't right at all.

And so, during the week that was supposed to be so happy, the Patil family held a funeral and cried for the boy they never got to know.

(Padma couldn't help but think about how the blue was so much like the color of her House.)

4. She _hated _Lavender Brown.

The blonde was just such a- such a _blonde_. Padma knew better than to go by stereotypes, but Lavender made it impossible for her not to come up with a few "dumb blonde" jokes when they were in the same vicinity. The Gryffindor was a gossip to the extreme, making something out of nothing and spreading it all around the whole school. Her grades were lacking, to put it nicely; probably because she spent more time picking her outfits than doing her homework. Despite all of this however, as expected, the _real _reason Padma hated her was because Lavender _stole _Parvati.

Then again, the logical voice in the back of Padma's head that got her Sorted into Ravenclaw wondered if she should really hate herself instead, since surely Parvati wouldn't have let herself be taken if Padma hadn't done something to turn her away.

5. After Defense Against the Dark Arts class in Third Year, she was ashamed of herself.

A snake. A big snake. Out of all the things in the world her worst fear could be- torture, insanity, death- she chose an _animal_. A mere animal that she would most likely never face in her life. What did that say about her, besides the fact that she was a coward who wasn't Sorted into Gryffindor for a reason?

And yet, she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it, and if the looks Vincent Crabbe sent her way- full of something disgusting that she didn't want to name- only made her feel creeped out.

6. In Fourth Year, she overheard the girls in her dorm talking about her.

The words were cruel, and Padma was shocked to hear them coming from the lips of her friends- no, apparently they weren't even that.

Was she really a know-it-all? Sure, she did well on her schoolwork, but she wasn't all that vocal in class; she spent more time listening, making sure her notes were right.

Did she honestly look like a plastic Muggle mannequin? She had never thought so- she had always liked to think that her cinnamon skin, her big eyes, her long, dark hair were rather unique. Was she wrong?

Were her clothes _really _too tight on her? She thought they were just form-fitting; but did they actually make her look like a slut?

…Did even_ Parvati_ really hate her?

Deep down, she knew that these girls were lying to themselves and to her, that she wasn't _really _all of those awful things they said, that they were just jealous. Still, she couldn't stop herself from running away in the opposite direction, with no real destination in mind, just running.

And, while she ran, she tripped, and accidentally cut her wrist on a stone.

Blood trickled out; the pain was extreme. Yet somehow… for some insane reason, it felt _good_. It hurt, and it was disgusting, but… for some reason beyond her comprehension, it made Padma feel better. More… powerful. In control. Invincible to anyone besides herself- including her roommates.

There were other times, so many other times after that, when Padma heard the whispers about her. Now that she had heard them once, she just seemed to hear them everywhere she went. Each time, she ran. And each time, she let that blood flow out of her.

And with time, it became too frequent to be an accident anymore.

7. Parvati found out about Padma's… _problem_ by chance during Fifth Year.

It wasn't twin intuition- no, that had faded long ago, when they had stopped being glued to one another's sides. In fact, Parvati had been surprised when, after lazing about casually on the grounds during lunch, she had come back inside to find her sister crouched in the corner of a deserted corridor, unseen except for the shining blue of her crest if you looked hard enough.

"Padma?" Parvati had asked tentatively, walking closer to the other girl carefully. "What- what are you doing?"

"Oh! Parvati! Hi!" Padma exclaimed, startled, standing up and stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I'm not doing anything, don't worry, I was just taking a walk and I tripped. I hurt my knee when I fell, so I decided to sit down for awhile."

"In a corner?" Padma nodded. "But you're standing right now," Parvati pointed out. "And you were holding your wrist, not your knee."

Padma silently cursed. "The sitting paid off," she said quickly. "I feel better now. And I was holding my wrist because I was checking the time."

"No, you weren't," Parvati shook her head. "You wear your watch on your left wrist, you always have; you were holding your right wrist."

Padma didn't even have time to feel elated that Parvati actually remembered something that detailed about her, because her twin then said, "Let me see your wrist."

"It's nothing, Parvati," Padma assured her sister, stepping closer, brown eyes wide and innocent. "Really, it's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then you won't mind letting me see it."

"I should go now- I have an essay to work on." Padma side-stepped Parvati and quickly walked in the other direction; but only seconds after she thought she had escaped, a high-pitched scream of her name stopped her, and she couldn't help but rush back.

There stood Parvati, in the corner, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other holding up the red-stained knife that Padma had mistakenly left behind.

"Padma," Parvati began, and this time her voice was trembling, wary, "let me see your wrist."

The game was up, and Padma knew it. Taking a deep breath, she took her hand out of her pocket, exposing the bloody slash she had made.

For a few minutes, there was silence. Then Parvati spluttered, her voice shocked and horrified, "Wha- bu- Padma- _why_?"

"You would know if you had bothered to talk to me at all these past five years," Padma shot back, eyes narrowing. "Give me my knife."

"No."

"Parvati-"

"_No_. Padma, don't you see what you're doing? Can't you see how- how _awful _this is? Why are you doing it?"

"It makes me feel like I'm worth something," Padma hissed back, her eyes narrowing. "Give it back."

"No way."

"Fine, then. If you won't give it back, I'll just get a new one."

Not waiting another second, Padma tucked her hand back in her pocket and spun around, heading back to her dormitory.

(The ironic part was that she didn't even go back when Parvati called out for her this time, even though she had spent every night since her first day of Hogwarts dreaming of her sister needing her again.)

8. Sixth Year was a nightmare for her.

Parvati hadn't given back Padma's knife- in fact, she had done exactly the opposite. The Gryffindor had taken to sneaking into the Ravenclaw dorms, searching them thoroughly while no one was there, and taking each and every knife she found. Somehow, she never got caught; Padma supposed it was just thanks to the grace that her twin had inherited from their mother and the lucky that she just had somehow.

The Ravenclaw found herself being forced to socialize more and more. Parvati would drag her into conversations- even with Lavender, which was never fun- and, in the memorable case of Valentine's Day, been set up on a blind date with a Seventh Year Hufflepuff. Needless to say, it hadn't gone well.

Part of her was thrilled that Parvati cared so much, and liked the fact that people knew her name nowadays. But another part, just as strong and even more overwhelming, was convinced that Parvati was only trying to help her because she had a conscience, not because she cared for Padma. This part also constantly reminded Padma that people didn't talk to her by choice, they did it because they found themselves suddenly forced to. These thoughts kept eating away at anything remotely happy in the Ravenclaw's mind, and all of Parvati's attempts to make her twin live again went down the drain.

It certainly didn't help that Crabbe's looks, still so revolting, hadn't faded since Third Year. In fact, they grew steadily more frequent.

9. In Seventh Year, she used the Cruciatus Curse once.

She had been exiting class- what used to be Defense Against the Dark Arts, but was shortened to the last two words. The lesson had been terrible; all about how to torture someone. It made Padma sick. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to forget it, the spell kept swirling around and around in her head. _Crucio… Crucio… Crucio…_

And that was when she felt a beefy hand go around her mouth, smelled rotten breath on her neck, and was tugged into a classroom.

She heard a door close, and saw that the room was entirely empty except for her and whoever was holding her. She struggled in the man's grip- it was too strong _not _to be a man's- and tried to scream, even bit his hand, but his hold never lessened.

Finally, the man seemed to have had enough. "Oh, shut up," a masculine, yet surprisingly soft voice growled. "_Imperio_."

Instantly, all thoughts left Padma's mind. All that was left was a feeling of content and bliss. She hadn't felt this since she was ten years old… It was _wonderful_…

_Stop struggling. _That soft voice echoed in her brain, and she did so. It was so much easier just to do what he said… to just be happy…

She felt herself be let go, and she turned around to see her captor. Crabbe. That same _look _was in his eyes, just like it always was when he looked at her. Hatred flared up in her mind- but why did she hate him again? Crabbe was good… Crabbe was giving her this peace…

Before she had time to blink, she felt herself pushed up against the wall, and Crabbe's mouth was on hers. _Kiss me, _his voice said in her mind. She did. It was rough, and terrible, and forced… but at the same time, it was fantastic, because all Padma had to do to be happy was do what Crabbe said… If she did what Crabbe said, then she would _always _be happy…

Then, all of the sudden, his hand was going up her shirt, touching places that she really didn't want touched. She squirmed. An oddly familiar voice spoke up in the back of her head: _This is bad,_ it said, _this isn't good, this isn't happiness, you don't want this…_

She grunted in protest from beneath his kiss. She shifted her position, away from him, but felt herself pulled back instantly. At the same time, his hand was going farther up her shirt, and his other one was going down her pants… _Why are you doing this? _That little voice in the back of Padma's head said. She realized who it sounded like now. _Don't let him do this… This is bad, this is gross, you'll regret this... Don't do it…_

Suddenly, everything was clearer. Crabbe was- why was he doing _that_? More importantly, why was Padma _letting _him? She pushed him off her and was about to yell when her mouth was forced onto his again. It was a cycle- she would try to escape, he would grab her again, bruises would line her skin, and her Ravenclaw sense didn't want it to get violent, but Parvati's voice in the back of her head kept telling her to _Do whatever it takes to get away... Be brave… Fight back, Padma, fight back… _

Finally, when she felt her shirt ripped off, she wrenched her wand out of her pocket and yelled the first spell that came to her mind.

"_Crucio!_"

And then, Crabbe was writhing on the ground, away from her, screaming in pure agony. Padma screamed too, dropping her wand in horror; what had she done?

It was Amycus Carrow who found them. Padma had to assume that he had come when he heard the screams. His beady eyes ran over the scene- resting far too long on Padma's chest, which she had only just barely been able to pull her shirt over when she had seen the door opening- and then, with a terrible leer, he had declared, "Twenty points to Ravenclaw, for learning today's lesson so well."

That night, Padma didn't even bother using a knife. She just broke her mirror and used the glass from that. The searing pain in her wrist and the sight of blood trickling down her arms felt so good, like such a relief, that she wondered what she had become.

10. She chose to die.

She didn't commit suicide. No, she was a Ravenclaw- she was smart enough to know that the last thing Hogwarts needed, the last thing _Dumbledore's Army _needed, was the death of a student to deal with. She didn't want to put that burden on everyone else.

During the Final Battle, she stayed to fight. She knew that Harry needed all the help he could get- and what better fighter than one who wouldn't hesitate to go into the thick of the battle? One who wasn't afraid to die?

It happened far into the battle. She was fighting with every curse she knew, sending hexes at whichever unfortunate Death Eaters crossed her path. Other people on her side were around her, too- one of the Weasleys, she couldn't recognize which, was to her left; Remus Lupin, her old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was somewhere behind her; and Parvati was a few meters away in front of her. The Gryffindor was fighting one-on-one with a Death Eater, showing just how good a dueler she had become as she dodged the jets of light sent at her and set ones back with equal speed.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, Padma saw a jet of light heading at her twin's back.

In an instant, she knew was she was going to do. Her own fights forgotten, she ran, faster than she ever had before, somehow not being hit by the spells flying all around her, and dove in front of the curse just before it hit Parvati from behind.

The effect was instant. Padma was on the ground, blood pouring from gashes that were suddenly appearing all over her body. The irony of it- that she would die from cuts, just like the ones she gave herself to live- nearly made her laugh.

Her senses were fading; the world blurred. Dimly, she heard her name being screeched in a voice filled with pain, and saw a face identical to her own crouch down next to her. She felt a hand squeeze her own, heard her sister's voice crying out for help- but both the Patils knew it was no use.

"Parvati," Padma croaked out.

"Stay awake, Padma, stay awake," was the frantic response. "Whatever you do, don't close your eyes. Stay awake!"

"No, Parvati," Padma shook her head briefly. "I can't... It's my time to go…"

"It's _not_, you're only seventeen, you have a life left to live-"

"You're seventeen, too, and you have more in store for you than I do," Padma cut her sister off. "_You _have a life left to live. Not me."

"No, no, no, don't go, Padma, _don't go, _you're my twin, I need you-"

"And I need you to let me go," Padma said. "I love you, Parvati."

Tears streamed down the other girl's face. "I love you too, Padma."

Padma just managed to smile and squeeze her twin's hand before everything around her faded, and a bright light flashed before her eyes. Then- she was gone.

(*)

Padma Patil wasn't independent. She relied on people, and she felt no shame in admitting that. Above all others, though, she needed her sister. Parvati, throughout all seventeen years of Padma's life, was everything to her. Her best friend; her twin; her other half. Yet somehow, this always seemed to be overlooked. Even by Parvati.

She was the Invisible One, and it drove her to lengths that were just plain sad. She knew that it was pathetic, how weak she was, but she just couldn't help it- no matter what, Parvati was always the most important person in her life, and the fact that Parvati didn't feel the same cut her deeper than knives ever could.

But when Padma was hit by that fatal curse, Parvati _finally _saw her. She cried, because she _cared_, and that was all Padma had ever wanted. Love. And so when she died, Padma was happy at last.

**_Please, throw rotten vegetables at me. I completely deserve them. I haven't updated this story in OVER A MONTH, and I feel terrible about it. I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. Words can't describe how sorry I am- I can only hope that you'll forgive me and my awful updating._**

**_I like this chapter. I'm not sure how in character Padma is- then again, we really don't hear much about her, so I didn't have much to build on. Anyways, enough of my blabbering- what did YOU think? Please, please, PLEASE review, even though I don't deserve them._**

**_Thanks much, and, again, I am SO sorry,_**

**_Joelle8_**


	29. Rita Skeeter

What You Never Knew

**Rita Skeeter: The Lost One**

1. "Rita Skeeter" wasn't her real name.

She was born as Rachel Smith, daughter of Reymond Smith and- well, she actually didn't know who her mother was. According to her father, her mother left when Rachel was just a baby; Rachel didn't have a single memory of the woman. Therefore, she really didn't understand what was so great about mothers- fathers were just as good at raising kids. Hers was, at least. Even though he couldn't talk and didn't have a job because of it.

**We're not poor, we just don't have as much money as some other families,** her father would write to her in the dirt, clad in his only outfit: a dirty, baggy T-shirt and an old pair of jeans. He said this to make his daughter feel better, but they both knew the truth: They were flat-out _broke_, plain and simple.

It was hard _not _to know when you lived on the streets.

But Rachel didn't mind. It didn't mean she was any worse than anyone else. That was what her Daddy told her (or, rather, wrote to her), so it had to be true.

2. From a small age, she proved to have a knack for certain skills.

Her talent was first discovered when she was five years old and, hungrier than any child should ever be, she walked into a candy shop. Looking around at all the sweets, she began drooling, running over to the displays of chocolate. Her stomach growled so loudly that everyone in the shop looked at her- including the woman behind the counter.

Frowning, conflicting emotions in her eyes, the woman walked over to the tiny Rachel, hands on her rather large hips, and bent down to the younger girl's eye level.

"How old are you?" She asked, her voice sharp but soft.

"Five," Rachel answered, holding up one hand, all fingers outstretched. "This many."

"What's your name?"

"Rachel."

"When was the last time you ate something?"

The little girl thought for a moment. "Two weeks," she said slowly, still thinking hard, not taking notice of the woman's expression. "It would've been three, but Daddy gave me his. He said that I'm a growing girl, so I need food more than him."

"Good lord, girl!" The woman exclaimed, looking absolutely appalled. "Those aren't any conditions for a child to live under! Come with me."

Rachel hesitated; on the one hand, her father had told her not to talk to strangers- which she had already disregarded- and _never _to follow them. On the other hand, there was so much food, and the woman seemed nice…

Tentatively, she trailed after the shop owner.

She was led to a little storeroom in the back of the shop. There were boxes from the floor to the ceiling, covering each wall and most of the space in the room. Somehow, the woman- who wasn't exactly small- squeezed through and heaved down a large box. Setting it down on the ground, she opened it.

Rachel's jaw dropped.

There was _so much _food, just in that once box… gummy worms and chocolates and caramel and fudge and tubes of colored sugar and candies shaped like fruits and so much _more_…

"Here," the woman said, shoving a plastic bag into Rachel's hands. She received a questioning glance in response. "Everything you can fit into that bag, you can take with you. Okay?"

"But I can't pay for it!"

"Free of charge for you, Rachel- you said your name was Rachel, didn't you? Yeah, you did. You don't got to pay for this, Rachel; I ain't gonna let a five-year-old starve on my watch."

Rachel gaped at the woman for a few moments and then began digging through the box, testing each candy and dumping whole containers of her favorites into her plastic bag. She made sure to have a little of each - she wasn't sure which ones her father liked, after all. After what seemed like hours of pure bliss, her bag was full to the brim, and the woman had had to fetch a miniature wagon- who knows what from- for Rachel to pull it in.

"Thank you very, very much, Ma'am," Rachel said politely, wrapping her tiny arms around the woman's waist. "It's real nice of you."

"Yes, well, I'd be right heartless to do anything else," the woman said, lightly hugging Rachel back for the briefest of moments. "Now get on with ya; I reckon your dad'll be right pleased with that haul there!"

Rachel nodded swiftly and walked away, painstakingly pulling the heavy wagon behind her all the way to her and her father's make-shift home in an alley at the end of the street.

"Daddy, Daddy!" she squealed when she saw their box. It was larger than other boxes she had seen, since there were two of them; it was much better than there old one. Her father, with his stubble-covered face and dark bags under his eyes, peered out.

"What is it, Rachel?" he asked wearily.

"Look what I've got!" she exclaimed happily, finally making it to the box with all her candy. Her father stared, wide-eyed, at the bag in the wagon.

The young girl explained what happened; when she finished, her father let out a silent roar of delight and lifted her into his arms. Words didn't need to be said; the relieved tears streaming down his face said enough.

That night, the two ate their fill of the candy, saving just less than half of the original amount. And the next day, Mr. Smith wrote to his daughter, **Rachel, do you think you could do what you did yesterday again?**

Rachel had nodded. And when she went into the grocery store later that day, she had been proven correct.

Again and again and again…

3. The Hogwarts owl was the biggest shock of her life.

Rachel had lived on the street all of her life. Her father had no special abilities whatsoever- he was an average, unremarkable man in all aspects, which was only worsened by the fact that he couldn't talk. Aside from being able to con food out of storeowners and having grown rather strong from carrying it all back, Rachel had about as many skills.

So when they received an _owl, _of all things, carrying a letter (addressed to "Miss Rachel Smith, The Large Box, the Alleyway on the edge of Harney Street, London, England") telling eleven-year-old Rachel that she was a witch and had a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they were, naturally, stunned.

In fact, they thought it was a joke. So they didn't reply, using the back of the paper to have an in-depth conversation about who could have sent it.

When the same letter arrived the next day, they decided to send a response:

_Dear Professor McGonagall (or whoever you really are),_

_We do not appreciate your joke, so if you would please stop sending these letters, it would be much appreciated._

_Sincerely,_

_Reymond and Rachel Smith._

They expected that to be the end of it; however the next day, they woke up to a tall woman with dark hair and emerald robes tapping on the top of their box, asking in a curt voice, "Mr. Smith? Miss Smith?"

Rachel woke up quick as a whip; her father followed suit. They glared suspiciously at the woman. "Who are you?" Rachel asked hastily. "What do you want?" She would've added this customary, 'We aren't going to trade boxes with you,' but somehow this woman didn't look homeless.

"My name is Professor McGonagall, and I am from-"

"Hogwarts," Rachel breathed as she recognized the name, shock ringing through the word.

"Yes," McGonagall nodded. "We received your response to our letter and I have come to explain magic to you."

And explain it she did. She talked about how magic worked, the history of Hogwarts, the subjects that were taught at school- Rachel soaked it all in like a sponge.

"It sounds wonderful," she sighed when the Professor finished talking.

Mr. Smith suddenly banged his hand on the ground to get attention. Ignoring the odd look he received from Professor McGonagall, he wrote in the dirt, **Money?**

"Ah, yes," McGonagall said, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Well, Hogwarts itself is free for all its students- the supplies, however, are rather… above your budget, I believe." Rachel's face fell. The older witch hastily went on, "Hogwarts does, however, give financial aid to students who can prove that they need it… I believe that you qualify. I will talk to my fellow professors about it; I am sure they will agree."

"Oh, thank God," Rachel breathed. She had just been told about this wonderful, fantastic new world that she was being let into- she wasn't going to get that taken away from her.

"Perhaps we could arrange a day for me to return?" McGonagall suggested. "I could take you two to Diagon Alley; that is where wizards and witches buy their supplies."

Rachel nodded eagerly and turned to her father. "Wednesday?" She asked him. "Two o'clock?"

After a moment, he nodded. Rachel squealed and hugged him. "Thank you, Daddy!"

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well, then. Wednesday at two o'clock? I will see you here. Until then, good day, Mr. and Miss Smith."

Then, she did the most extraordinary thing: with a snap of her fingers, she vanished.

Rachel grinned. She _really _couldn't wait to learn how to do that.

4. On the Hogwarts Express, she learned what regular people thought of poor people.

It had started out innocent enough: Rachel had sat down in a compartment on the train, taken out one of her textbooks, and begun reading furiously, becoming so immersed in the magic that she didn't even notice someone else entering her compartment until that person cleared her throat.

Rachel lifted her head up, blushing a deep red, and looked at the newcomer. She looked to be about Rachel's age; other than that, however, there was no resemblance. Rachel had short, thin, unkempt blond hair and blemished skin that seemed to be permanently dirty. This girl had long, dark, wild curls that shone even in the dim light; she had full lips and porcelain skin and if her clothes were anything to go by, then she had money. A _lot _of money.

That was the last thing Rachel had.

The newcomer stared down at Rachel, her dark eyes colder than ice, for a few moments. Then, she sneered, "Whoare _you_?"

"Rachel Smith," Rachel answered, forcing herself to have a congenial tone. "And who are you, might I ask?"

"Bellatrix Black," the girl responded imperiously. "You're a Mudblood, I assume?" Her eyes swept over Rachel's robes. "And poor, too. Dirt poor, from the looks of it."

"What's that matter?"

Bellatrix's laugh was high and sadistic. "What's that matter? _What's that matter_? Oh, that's rich!" She narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "Tell you what, Mudblood, I'll teach you a little thing about social classes." The dark-haired girl paused. "Actually, no, I won't. I don't need to waste my time with pathetic filth like _you_. I'll just sum up everything you need to know: You- and all the other Mudbloods- have about as much value as mud. Being _poor_-" She sneered the word "-makes you worth even less. I'm better than you and you're to treat me that way. Got it?"

"G-Got it," Rachel nodded fervently.

"Good," Bellatrix almost crooned, her voice a sickly sort of sweet now as she leaned over Rachel. "We're going to have a lot of fun in Hogwarts, Mudblood." Then, she swept out of the compartment, her satin black robes billowing behind her.

Rachel gulped. Somehow, she didn't think Bellatrix's idea of fun would be very fun at all.

5. Her first year at Hogwarts was hell.

After that train ride, Bellatrix Black seemed to have made it her personal mission not target Rachel specifically, even out of the rest of the Muggleborns in the school. Because of this, not only did Rachel find herself a regular visitor to the Hospital Wing, but no one would dare go near her, for fear of facing Bellatrix's wrath.

Not to mention she spent every waking minute worrying about her father and how he was. They exchanged a weekly correspondence, but her nerves couldn't be soothed; after all, words were just words. Her father would never tell her if something had gone badly, not unless it was _really _serious, and things like no having enough food or getting in a fight with another homeless man didn't fall into that category…

Rachel would always shake those thoughts out of her head.

6. In her Fourth Year, Hogwarts got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

This in itself wasn't especially odd. In fact, it was perfectly usual, seeing as no teacher for that subject ever lasted more than a year. The teacher herself wasn't an especially remarkable woman, either: Blond hair styled in a bob around a rather thin face that was covered with much too much makeup. She was of an average height, with rather large hands and perfectly manicured nails.

The first day of classes, Rachel had arrived early. She had found that if she could get a seat up front, near the teacher, Bellatrix was less likely to try and jinx her during the lesson. Besides, she was still as charming as she was when she was five, and it never hurt to get on a teacher's good side.

The teacher's reaction when Rachel had walked into the room was, however, quite different than all the past professors' had been. Usually, Rachel was greeted with an, "Oh, hello!" or "You're quite early, aren't you?" or "Nice to meet you, please take your seat"; something along those normal lines.

Professor Griffiths' reaction was entirely different.

The woman had turned around when she had heard footsteps with a bright, winning smile on her face; as soon as she had set her eyes on Rachel's matching one, however, it had slid right off. Professor Griffith had clutched the desk, blanching even through her makeup, breathing hard while gasping, "Oh my God… It's… _You_… So long since… Oh my God…"

Rachel frowned. "What do you mean?"

Her teacher took a deep breath, steadying herself rather unsuccessfully. "Oh, it's nothing, dear, nothing- may I ask what your name is?"

"Rachel Smith."

A sharp intake of breath. Then, a pause. "Nice to meet you, Miss Smith," Professor Griffiths finally said, her voice shaky and unnaturally high, not looking the girl in the eye. "Please, take a seat… class will start in a few minutes."

7. Professor Griffiths became Rachel's best confidant.

Despite what Rachel considered a rocky (not to mention just plain weird) first start, she and her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher got on surprisingly well; it was almost as if they were the same person, in many ways. They had weekly teas together that soon turned daily; Rachel would tell the Professor everything about her life, from Bellatrix to schoolwork to her father (which, for some reason, Professor Griffiths was particularly interested in). The older woman would listen with an eager, almost desperate fervor and give advice like the fate of the world depended on it.

One day towards the end of the year, Rachel decided to go to teatime early. Just the other day, Professor Griffiths had taught her how to apply her own makeup; that morning, Rachel had done it herself, and couldn't wait to show her teacher. Arriving at the DADA classroom, she eagerly pushed open the door-

-And saw, to her surprise, that Professor Griffiths was utterly unprepared.

The woman who usually looked so composed, so professional, had her hair down in an unkempt, dirty-blond mess. She was using a tiny handheld mirror at her desk to apply her makeup when the door opened; she gave a little yelp, jumped in her seat, and stared at Rachel, startled.

"Oh, Rachel, hello!" she exclaimed, beaming like there was no tomorrow. "You're early, but that's no matter- I'm so sorry you have to see me in this state, though, it's a sight no one should see- Did you do your makeup yourself? It's _beautiful, _darling, that blush is perfect for your complexion…" She trailed off once she finally took note of Rachel's expression and silence. Her voice changed to a softer one, full of concern. "Rachel? Are you alright, dear? Do you need to sit down? I could get you a glass of water-"

"You look like me," Rachel cut her off, her eyes wide under thickly mascara-coated lashes. "Or I guess, I look like you…"

The smile, once so broad, vanished from Professor Griffiths' face. She paled whiter than a sheet; her hands began to shake, and she forced a breathy laugh. "Oh, what a funny coincidence! Good on you for noticing that, Rache-"

"It's not a coincidence. I look _just like _you."

"You don't; you very much resemble Reymond-" She stopped short and clapped her hand over her mouth, seeing her error at the same time Rachel did.

"I never told you my dad's name, and you've never seen him before," the girl pointed out hastily. "Or at least, that's what you told me… But you were lying, weren't you?" She lowered her voice; her eyes narrowed. "You know my dad. You know _me_. You've known us since before I was born- precisely nine months, in my case, haven't you?"

Professor Griffiths let out a choked sob. "I- I- Oh, I'm so sorry, Rachel… I'm so, _so _sorry…"

"It's fourteen years too late to apologize for leaving me and my dad," Rachel retorted. "Save it."

"I had to, Rachel- I loved both of you, I did, I still do, but I- I couldn't live like that-"

"So you picked material possessions over your family. Yeah, that's _such _a good excuse," the young Ravenclaw scoffed. "I can't believe I ever thought of you as a mother…"

With that, Rachel turned and marched out of the classroom, the older woman's shout of "But I _am_, Rachel, I _am_! That's _never changed for me_!" echoing after her, tears on both of their pale cheeks.

8. She never saw Professor Griffiths again.

The next day, Professor Dumbledore made the announcement during lunchtime that Professor Griffiths had a family emergency, and would, unfortunately, have to discontinue her teaching for the rest of the school year. Rachel waited until she would be able to go unnoticed, and then ran out of the Great Hall and up to her dormitory as fast as her legs could carry her. There, she was greeted by an unfamiliar owl, hooting on her bed. Curiously, she grabbed the note from off its leg and opened it.

_Dear Rachel,_

_I'm so sorry that you had to find out the truth like that. I had planned to tell you eventually- when you were older, when I had the courage. But now… well, that doesn't help anything, does it? You've already heard my excuse, and as ashamed as I am to say it, it's the best I can give. I was selfish and stupid, and I've regretted leaving you and your father every day since I left._

_I have only known you for a few months, Rachel, and I desperately wish I could get to know you better. You are a brilliant, beautiful, bright girl who can do anything you want, who can be anything you want. _Never _forget that, Rachel, no matter what happens._

_This will most likely be the last time I ever hear from you and vice versa, as you undoubtedly hate me now (you have every right to) and I don't want to bother you. So I want to give you some last pieces of advice:_

•_Light blue eyeliner creates a very nice contrast with your eyes, dark as they are. I know from experience. _

•_It never hurts to get along with a teacher; it certainly helps when you forget to do your homework. Though you ought not to try it with McGonagall; it'll backfire. But with most adults in general, remember that charms aren't just made with a wand._

•_The Confundus Charm. Don't underestimate it._

•_I know full well that some things are easier said than done, and standing up to Bellatrix Black is one of them. So I'm not going to tell you to do that. What I will tell you is that getting back at people should be done much more often. To help you with this, I've been a naughty girl and enclosed some copies of papers from her permanent records. You're a talented writer, Rachel; I'm sure you can make something out of Miss Black's secrets._

_Well, I hope I've helped, at least a bit. I love you, Rachel- I always have, and I always will. _

_Sincerely,_

_Your mother,_

_Sabrina Griffiths_

Rachel blinked away tears and instead looked over the enclosed papers, her eyes conflicted. On the one hand, she would _love _to expose all these secrets about her eternal tormentor to the world; but on the other hand, then she would be just as bad as Bellatrix.

She compromised and stowed the papers in her suitcase.

9. She lost her father just after the end of Sixth Year.

After the ceremony, she went to their alleyway to visit him. Beaming with pride, she wanted to show him her letter from the Daily Prophet agreeing to hire her as a secretary. A _paid _secretary, starting the next week. If she was enough of a spendthrift, she might be able to buy them a home eventually.

But their box was gone, along with her father. Rachel looked all over the city for him, sparing no street or dump or hovel. He was nowhere. There were two options, in Rachel's mind: the first was that her father was dead. But he had written her just yesterday, and if he had died since then, it would have been too recent for the alleyway to not reek of his corpse.

The second option was that he had left without telling her. In other words, _he left her_. And as much as Rachel hated to admit it, this was the most likely one.

So she took the Night Bus back to the Leaky Cauldron, where she paid for her room with her money from her job at the Daily Prophet. For the entire summer, she cried and screamed with anger and sadness and heartbreak; and on one of those days, one of the particularly awful days, she remembered the papers. The papers all about Bellatrix Black.

With an old piece of parchment and a tattered quill, she wrote.

10. During the second day of Rachel's Seventh Year at Hogwarts, dozens of owls distributed copies of Rachel's articles to every single student at breakfast.

The expressions on Rachel's classmates' faces sent gleeful shivers up her spine; her heart filled with pride as immediately whispers swept the Great Hall. _All thanks to her._ Bellatrix's enraged shriek of, "WHEN I FIND THIS- THIS- _RITA SKEETER_, I WILL MAKE HER WISH SHE WAS NEVER BORN!" did nothing to lower her mood; in fact, it only increased it.

Rachel's charms and her ability to be so deceptively manipulative had never faded, and she discovered that if she used them and snooped hard enough, she could dig up information about almost anything and anyone, whether it was good or bad or important or worthless. Then she could twist it around to portray exactly what she wanted of the subject of her article.

She even got _fans _for it.

Of course, her scathing and revealing words were in general was more disliked than admired, but no matter how many hateful words about 'Rita Skeeter' floated throughout Hogwarts' corridors, there were some facts that couldn't be denied:

She was _good_. She was _in control. _Everyone knew her name, whether they liked it or not, and she had made a big enough impact that she knew that at least some people would never forget her.

That made her feel _great_.

XxxxX

So Rachel kept writing and, when she graduated from Hogwarts, found out that she could actually make _money_- real money, Galleons and Sickles and Knuts or, if she changed currencies, pounds and pence and _moneymoneymoney_- doing what she loved best. And the more she wrote, the more pay she got, so she published trashy article after trashy article, revealing book after revealing book, going to any length to get the scoop.

Eventually, Rachel Smith- the bullied yet charming little girl who lived in a box and just wanted a real family, a normal life- became The Lost One, getting buried completely under the makeup-slathered layers of that confident, successful, nosy Rita Skeeter.

**_(*)_**

_**I have gone two months- almost exactly- without updating. That is inexcusable, and therefore I'm just going to apologize a thousand times over and hope you don't hate me too much.**_

_**I worked really hard on this extra-long chapter (part of why I've taken so long to update); it just didn't come out right the first few times. But I hope you like it- Rita's character is rarely ever looked into, and I hope I offered a different perspective on her.**_

_**Please review, even if it's just to yell at me. **_

_**Thank you so much for reading and for your patience,**_

_**Joelle8**_

_**P.S. Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.**_


	30. Helga Hufflepuff

What You Never Knew

**Helga Hufflepuff: The One to Blame**

1. She was born a servant.

Hard-working and blind as a bat, Bess Hufflepuff gave birth to her first and only child on the 16th May in the Year of Our Lord 947. She and her fellow cooks raised young Helga from the moment she could walk that hard work was the key to success. The young girl grew up knowing the social classes (it was hard _not _to, working in a castle and all), and knowing that they meant about as much as a steak meant to an elephant. She was taught that she could do anything if she put her heart into it.

So she couldn't help but find it a tad contradictory when the older women wouldn't let her do anything but cook, cook, cook.

2. She was eleven years old when her occupation changed.

Guests were visiting the Royal Family of Wales, and so the kitchens were in a state of panic. The sugar was nowhere to be found, and so who was sent to get it but young Helga, red-haired and red-faced, nimbler than the rest of her companions.

She was running as though her life depended on it- which it very well could have given the urgency of the situation- not looking where she was going until, quietly suddenly, she slammed into someone, and they both fell down.

"Oh, I'm so, so sorry!" She exclaimed immediately, pushing herself up to her feet and pulling up the person who had fallen down with her. "'Twas an accident, I assure you!"

"It's quite alright, though I daresay my mother will be in a right state about my clothes," the other person said in a Scottish voice. Helga blinked; that voice was _young_. As in, her age. For the first time, she really looked at the other girl… and gulped, her throat going dry.

There was _no way _this girl was anything less than nobility.

Topped by a shining tiara, her thick black hair was flawless, pin-straight and flowing to just above waist-length, shining in the light. Pale, blemish-less skin only made dark, deep eyes stand out more. The dress she wore looked to be made of silk and a thousand different shades of blue.

_Well, Helga, _the servant thought to herself, _you've done it this time._

Gathering up the hems of her skirts, she prepared to curtsy when the girl's voice stopped her. "Please, don't. It's not necessary."

"But it's my duty, m'lady," Helga protested, a tad bit shocked. "You're nobility!"

"Royalty, actually," the girl corrected with a graceful shrug. She stuck out a soft hand. "Rowena Ravenclaw, Princess of Scotland. Pleasure to meet you, Miss-?"

"Helga Hufflepuff. Kitchen servant." The girl blushed a deep, dark red.

"Miss Helga Hufflepuff, then. But I'll call you Helga, just as you'll call me Rowena. Okay?"

Helga frowned, more than a bit confused. "But aren't I supposed to call you 'Princess' or 'Your Highness' or something of the sort?"

"Of course you are, but that's what _everyone _does," Rowena said as if it was obvious. "Besides, we're the same age- or at least, I think we are. I'm ten. And you?"

"Eleven."

"Close enough," Rowena smiled. "This is quite lovely, Helga. I've never met someone my age before; we'll be great friends, I'm sure."

"I live here, though!" Helga exclaimed. "And you live in Scotland! We'll probably never see each other again, unless you visit the palace often."

"True," the Princess frowned. Then, she got a sparkle in her eye, and asked Helga, "Would you like to be my lady-in-waiting?"

"What's that?"

"It's my assistant and closest companion. You would help me dress and such, and accompany me to my lessons and balls and all other sorts of things. Oh, it would be _so _fun, don't you think? Mother told me that I need a new lady-in-waiting anyways, and she said that I should be good friends with mine. What do you say?"

Helga blinked for a few moments, stunned. She had just met this girl a few minutes ago, and yet she was being offered the job of her lady-in-waiting? She couldn't just leave her family- the only people she'd ever known- behind; what would they do without her to get in the tiny places?

And yet… would she ever get this opportunity again? As a lady-in-waiting, she would be able to go to _balls_… she would be able to see what palaces were like outside the kitchen, how life as a princess was…

She needed to talk to her mother.

"Could I give you my answer later?" She asked tentatively. "It's just that I want to talk to my mum about this. Make sure she's okay with it."

"Of course," Rowena smiled. "Shall I meet you here again in an hour?"

"Sure. See you then, Rowena!" With that, Helga rushed away.

As it turned out, Bess thought her daughter was silly for even considering refusing Rowena's proposal, and sent her back an hour later with about a dozen kisses, all her things, some small cakes, and more than a few tears.

And then, she was on her way.

3. She found out that she was magical by accident.

At fourteen years old, Rowena Ravenclaw had already shown that though she had the classic beauty and grace of a true princess, it was her brains which set her apart from the rest. With her intelligence, so indisputably higher than everyone else's far and wide, she had made the most astounding discovery:

_Magic._

She didn't know quite how, or when, or even why _her_, but she had a dream, and when she awoke, it hit her like a slap to the face. From that point on, she made it her goal to find out how to use magic herself: how to wield it, how to produce it. Her sole helper was Helga, the only person who knew about the princess' revelation at all.

One day, Rowena was using her knowledge about witchcraft in legends to aid her search. Sitting at her gold-embellished desk, she was surrounded by different samples of different woods on her left side, and on her right, by various random objects. Threads, vials of liquids, feathers, and more. Using tools stolen from the royal carpenters, she was carving a piece of holly into a long stick, leaving the tiniest possible hole in the center.

"What do you think I should try this time, Helga?" Rowena asked, surveying the right side of her desk curiously. "I'd say the liquids are all no-goes, they just fall back out of the wood."

"Hmm… how about that feather there?" the lady-in-waiting suggested, pointing to a thin piece of plumage the color of fire. Neither girl had been able to identify what bird it came from, but they agreed that there was something special about it, and to not collect it while they took their monthly walk in the woods would have been just stupid.

"I agree," Rowena nodded, delicately picking up the feather by the tip. With the utmost care, she eased it into the hole in the holly until it was as tightly packed in there as possible. Then she used a sliver of wood to close the hole and set the now completed wand down, watching to see if anything would happen.

After five minutes, both girls sighed. "Useless again," Rowena murmured angrily under her breath. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing, Rowena," Helga assured her friend, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. "You're the brightest girl of this age; you'll get it eventually, you will."

"We can only hope you're right, Helga," the princess muttered sadly. "Would you mind putting the wand in the pile with the others that didn't work?"

"Of course," Helga said, picking up the wand.

And then, it happened: sparks, straight out of the wand's tip.

Immediately Rowena jumped up, her eyes going from Helga, to the wand, and back again. For a full two minutes, the girls were silent, gaping in shock. Then, finally, Helga broke it.

"You made a wand," she breathed, her voice quieter than a whisper, her skin as pale as her friend's from shock. "You made a wand… That must mean you're magical, Rowena. _You're a witch._"

"And you… The wand worked at your touch," Rowena followed. "That means that _you're _a witch, too."

4. They made the hardest decision of their lives when Rowena turned seventeen.

The Royal Family of Scotland- the King, the Queen, even Rowena's brother and heir to the throne, the Prince- openly despised witchcraft. To anyone who listened, they spoke of how evil it was, how all magical beings would be condemned.

So the night after Rowena's seventeenth birthday, she and Helga packed up all their best necessities and left.

5. During the next three years, Helga and Rowena met the boys who would change their lives forever.

First was Godric Gryffindor. It was the dead of winter: cold, tired and wet, Helga and Rowena had knocked on the door of the largest, most comfortable house they had seen and asked, with their best manners and most pathetic expressions, if they could spend the night. A man with a broad, boyish grin that was surrounded by a thick red beard had immediately allowed them in. They had got to talking and, after finding out that each of them had magical powers, came up with an idea: Why not create a school for people like them?

So Gryffindor entered their brigade.

Then came Salazar Slytherin. Gryffindor refused to leave without the man who he had been best friends with since before he could remember, and who, as he assured Helga and Rowena, had powers equal to theirs and would be of great use to them. Upon meeting him, the two women had to agree: Cunning and ambitious, Salazar seemed to fill the missing piece of their jigsaw puzzle.

And so Slytherin joined in on their plan, too.

Last was Marcus Mugglus: a non-magical man who had tried to rob the foursome one night while they stayed in a shabby seaside inn. He was found by Rowena, whose intelligence wasn't limited to books; he was saved by the men's wrath by the ever-peaceful Helga. They would have left him behind, but he had, as it turned out, overheard some of their plans to create a school for magical people, and the four witches and wizards hadn't created a spell to wipe peoples' memories yet.

Thus the group gained the person who may have been the most important in the grand scheme of things of them all.

6. While Hogwarts was being built, Rowena and Marcus fell in love.

It was unforeseen, of course, but not protested. Marcus, despite being a poor Muggle (as they now called non-magical people, after Marcus himself), had "a wealth of untapped intelligence," as Rowena had once put it. Not to mention that unlike most other men Rowena had known in her life, Marcus didn't fall at her feet: He treated her as an equal, while at the same time respecting her as the lady she was.

She _loved _that.

Helga watched all this happen, wondering why it was so hard to be happy for her oldest friend.

7. She figured out the answer a few years later, when she was Rowena's Maid of Honor at the former's wedding to Marcus.

Helga saw the way Marcus looked at Rowena. Perfect Princess Rowena, who always got everything without working for it. His eyes were so full of affection, so full of _love_- Helga wanted that.

That in itself wasn't bad. No, it was the fact that Helga- sweet, hard-working, innocent, loyal Helga- wanted to snatch Marcus away from her best friend and have _him_, no other guy, give her that exact same look that made it so very terrible.

8. Salazar felt the same way Helga did.

He didn't love Marcus, of course; no, his desires were for Marcus' wife. Neither he nor Helga _meant _to find out about the other's secret feelings; in fact, both were quite content keeping them as just that. _Secret_. Yet by the time Hogwarts had established itself as the best Wizarding school for miles, the two Founders knew of their respective loves for Rowena and Marcus.

Salazar- amazingly- didn't pursue Rowena at all. Not in the least bit. He wanted her, more than anything; and yet he wanted her to be happy, so he left her be. Helga, too, did nothing.

Nothing on purpose, at least.

Comforting Marcus after he and Rowena had a fight was a perfectly innocent deed, done only out of kindness of Helga's part. Sure, they met up sometimes after that to talk, but that was it: They were just talking. Just friends. And Helga did nothing to change it.

It was all Marcus' fault.

What was Helga supposed to do when he came to her after his daughter, Helena (named after Helga- oh, how it _burned_), ran away from Hogwarts? She talked to him; she did her best to make him feel better.

She didn't _ask_ him to kiss her mid-sentence.

She didn't _ask _for it to escalate so much further.

She didn't _ask _for it to go on for so much longer than that one night.

But she never pulled away, either.

9. Rowena found out.

Helga and Marcus hid their tracks well, but even without her diadem, Rowena was still the brightest witch of their age. She still noticed things that no one else did; she still had the rare ability to just _know _when something was wrong.

Having known her the longest and the best, Helga should have expected Rowena to burst into her room one day, her face streaked with tears, and to be slapped in response to her question of "What happened?"

"_You're _what happened," Rowena screamed. "You- You- You _scarlet woman_!"

"What are you _talking _about?"

"You know _exactly _what I'm talking about! _You slept with my husband!_"

Helga's heart stopped beating for a moment. She and her best friend- were they even that anymore?- stared at each other, both with broken eyes. Finally, Helga spoke, in a cracked whisper.

"I- I'm so sorry, Rowena."

"Why did you do it?" Rowena asked in response, her voice choked and quiet. "Were you doing it for revenge? Did I wrong you in some way that I don't know about?"

"No, Rowena, you did nothing wrong-"

"Then _why_?"

"Because I _love _him!" Helga cried back, tiny water droplets dripping from her eyes. "I _love _him, I have for just as long as you, and I _tried _not to, I really did, but it just wouldn't go away-"

"Then you should have said something!" Rowena screeched. "If you've loved him for as long as I have, then you should've done something about it in the beginning, not _now_, when he's _mine_!"

"_Everything's _yours!" Helga yelled in response. "You've _always _had _everything_, Rowena! You were the _Princess of Scotland_, with the money to prove it; and as if _that_ weren't enough, oh no, you had to go the extra mile and be incredibly beautiful _and _talented _and _brilliant, too! You've always gotten _anything _you wanted; well, guess what? The rest of us don't! We aren't all as pretty as you, or as virtuous, or as smart, or as rich, or as _lucky _and just plain _perfect _as you! So _excuse me _for wanting to get something that _I _want, that _I _love, for once in my life!"

Silence, louder the any of the screams were. It stayed that way for quite awhile: the women just stood there, one with eyes that didn't once move, the other's shifting guiltily. When one of them spoke at last, it was in a voice that was so cracked, it barely sounded human.

"Well," said Rowena. "This has just been the- the most _lovely _month for me. First, my daughter leaves me. But I still have my husband, Marcus, and I still have my best friend, Helga- that's what I _thought_, at least. It turns out that I was- I was- _wrong_," she spits out the word like it's a disease. "Apparently, those two people don't give a damn about me, otherwise they _never _would have- have betrayed me like this.

"Apparently, I'm alone."

With that, Rowena left the room, letting Helga cry out after her.

10. Helga never forgave herself for what followed.

Rowena refused to eat. She wouldn't drink. She wouldn't even leave her bedchamber, and she _certainly _wouldn't allow Helga to get past her office doorway, no matter how hard the witch tried.

Salazar visited her every day, almost ritually. Helga knew that he was trying to persuade Rowena to live again; he was trying to teach her that she _did _have something to live for, that she couldn't leave, that they _needed _her.

He failed.

After Rowena's death, Godric tried his best to comfort Salazar. He tried his best to keep the remaining three Founders together, but it was tasking. It took its toll on him; it tired him so much, being the sole Founder who hadn't gone through a dramatic change in his life, that his hopes backfired, and they all just grew more and more apart.

Salazar's changing views didn't help anything. He blamed Marcus for everything, and decided that all Muggles were as bad as him, and therefore no people of Muggle descent should be allowed into Hogwarts.

Godric and Helga disagreed. Salazar left, leaving behind only his House; his hidden Chamber and whatever was inside it; a painstakingly accurate painting of Rowena Ravenclaw, complete with her personality from before everything had gone so wrong; and the dead body of Marcus Mugglus as reminders that he was ever there at all.

XxxxX

There's not a person in the world without something to hide, and Helga Hufflepuff- remembered only for her hard work, her loyalty, her openness- was no exception. Her secret was that Rowena Ravenclaw died far too young and Salazar Slytherin developed a loathing for Muggles so large that he left the school, and she was The One to Blame, because it was all her fault.

**_Two updates in two weeks. You should be VERY proud of me (but don't be too hopeful about it happening again)._**

**_I realized the other day that no one ever does anything about the Founders. And then I realized that, in particular, no one ever does anything with Helga. Then I remembered that heartbreak was rumored to have controbuted to Rowena Ravenclaw's early demise, and it wasn't necessarily just because of Helena... and the rest just came to me. (Even if it's not all quite in accordance with what we know; I did my best to keep it canon, and I basically did, but I might have tweaked some minor things here and there. My memory's not working today, so I'm not sure.)_**

**_By the way: this marks the thirtieth chapter of this story! :D Quite the milestone, eh? I'm 26 reviews short of having 300, which was my secret internal goal, but I'm okay with that. :) Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and get a lot of reviews for this chapter... (A girl can dream.)_**

**_I hope you like this one; I actually think it's one of my more creative chapters. Please, please, PLEASE review!_**

**_Thanks so much,_**

**_Joelle8_**


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